


The House of Black

by kcthekat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 159,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcthekat/pseuds/kcthekat
Summary: In a time of growing social unrest, young Narcissa Black is simply trying to avoid the embarrassment of her father's drunken behavior so she can maintain a reputable pure-blood image and marry well, just as she always dreamed. Instead, as Narcissa herself recounts, fate conspired to take her on a very different path, one which forever left her heart split in two.





	1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Welcome! For those of you who have been following along with my other story "The Sacred 28," this story is a companion to that one and will eventually catch up to those events.

Don't worry if you haven't read it, though. This story will be able to stand well enough on its own. However, I think reading the two stories together is definitely the most fun. Enjoy!

Trigger warnings – suicide, domestic abuse. Only in the first chapter.

* * *

_When I was a little girl, my older sister Andromeda read me a line from a book: the book read, "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." At the time, this meant nothing to me. Having only lived one life, and being too young to properly see into the lives of others, I could only assume that my existence was a happy one, or at the very least, an expected one with no possible alternatives._

_As I grew older, however, I found that the book returned to my mind at the strangest of moments, and that the words made more sense to me with every passing year._

_Happy families, I decided, are alike only because they all wear the same painted face. Anyone who dared to be unhappy, on the other hand, showed their true imperfect nature. Perfection tends to be universal. Flaws rarely are._

_My mother and father were a wonderful example of a horrible thing. They married in the summer of 1950 and never forgave one another for it. In fact, each passing year brought with it new and interesting things to hate about one another, and it was to this that they devoted most of their time._

_My mother produced three girls, and only one son. He died in infancy. Yet another crime between them._ _But she had us, myself and my sisters and she taught us so much._

_She taught us how to dress and how to speak. She taught how to take our tea and how to avoid overeating. She taught us how to be pretty, polished and present, with the only alternative being putrid, pensive and plebeian._

_But above all else, she taught us how to let a room full of witches and wizards know, without ever saying a word, that we are from the ancient noble House of Black, and it is through us that this magical community is made great. To dilute our blood was a sin above all others, and no matter what my mother endured - the details of which I cannot say - this purity was what kept her alive... for a time._

_The pool of pure-bloods in Great Britain was shrinking even then, but that made our lives all the more precious. We were pure-blooded daughters of the House of Black, and we were a treasure, worthy of Gringotts. That was what my mother told us._

_I'd like to say I was a fool but in truth, I was only a child. And all children are fools._

**_1965_ **

To a Muggle, it appeared an ancient abandoned church.

Abandoned sights were often a lure for Muggle teens, encouraging vandalism and debauchery. However, this property invited no such attempts. In fact, should any Muggle wander too close to the beautifully decrepit cathedral, a sense of foreboding would draw them away, so powerful it sometimes caused nightmares in those who lingered.

That is not to say that the true character of the building was inviting to witches or wizards, either. In truth, although the true home was as majestic and well-kept as a great country manor, no one truly enjoyed visiting, if for no other reason than because of the family it housed.

Being only ten years old, Narcissa Black did not know this. Instead, she was only aware that her family was very rich and very powerful, and if anyone disliked them, it was only because they were stupid or jealous. Or, at least, that was what her older sister Bellatrix told her, and Bellatrix knew everything.

Skimming the dangling feet of a doll across the floor, young Narcissa hummed to herself a favorite song she had heard on the radio once. She wished desperately for a radio of her own; lots of her friends had them. Her parents had the gold to buy one, of course, even though they were quite expensive. The issue was not with the cost, but with the noise.

7 Grimmauld Place was not a place of raucous activity. Instead, it demanded silence at all times. For her mother's headaches, Narcissa was told. Her mother suffered a lot of headaches, and Narcissa often felt very bad for her.

Nearby, Narcissa's two older sisters sat near the window, which shifted and groaned occasionally as rain pelted the glass from the outside. A wild storm was raging, and lightning often pierced the sky outside only to be followed by a rolling boom of thunder. Narcissa liked it.

Andromeda, the middle sister, turned a page in her book and shifted closer to the light of her candle. Andromeda and Bellatrix were both in school, but it was Easter break and they were home from Hogwarts, which made Narcissa positively giddy. Getting along without her sisters home had been hard, and Narcissa had been forced to spend a lot more time with her cousins, Sirius and Regulus, who were intolerable.

The three Black sisters could have easily had their own rooms – the home was certainly large enough – but they'd chosen to bunk together in three separate beds, lined up near one another, for as long as Narcissa could remember. Now, as they all sat in the dimly lit room bedroom entertaining themselves in their own ways, Narcissa felt perfectly content. To have them home meant everything.

"Where'd you get that caramel corn?" asked Andromeda to Bellatrix, looking up when her sister crunched loudly on some candies.

"Nicked it from Aunt Walburga's house," Bellatrix said.

"Mother says we're not supposed to have candies," said Andromeda. "They rot your teeth and then you aren't pretty anymore."

Bellatrix responded by shoving as much caramel corn into her mouth as she possibly could, then smacking so that pieces fell out and onto the floor. "Am I pretty now?" she asked through a mouthful of candy, and Andromeda bit her lip before dissolving into giggles. Narcissa laughed as well, a little too loud, and Andromeda reached over for her and shushed her.

"Can I have some?" asked Narcissa hopefully.

"You can eat the pieces I dropped on the floor," said Bellatrix, making Narcissa pout. The eldest sister rolled her eyes and extended some to Narcissa, who ate just a few pieces, because she wanted to stay as pretty as possible but candy was hard to resist.

"I wish I looked more like both of you," said Narcissa admiringly. She frowned at her blond hair and pale skin. Her mother often said it made her look sickly. "Why don't I have dark hair like you two?"

"Because you're adopted," Bellatrix told her, smirking as Andromeda glared at her.

"You're beautiful," Andromeda consoled the youngest sister, holding her close. "I would love to have hair like yours. You're unique."

"Really?" said Bellatrix, looking unconvinced. "She looks a lot like Father's secretary if you ask me." Her eyes shifted mistrustfully to the door. Andromeda rolled her eyes.

"Shut it, Bella. She's just joking with you, Cissy."

"I know," said Narcissa, but she still made a face at Bellatrix, who threw a caramel candy at her. Narcissa caught it with her mouth and all three girls dissolved into laughter again. Soon they were each picking up candies and tossing them at one another, giggling madly. It went on for only a few minutes before the door to their room swung open and slammed into the opposite wall.

All three girls jumped and froze, eyes wide.

At the door, Druella Black stood, her fingers still spread against opening and her pale face hanging, ghost-like, just against the dark backdrop of the hallway. Narcissa noticed immediately that her mother had a painful looking bruise on her face, welling just beneath her eye and giving her pretty features a lopsided look. There was also that vacant look in her eye that Narcissa could not identify, being so young. However, she knew from experience that this faraway stare meant that sometimes her mother would say things that didn't make sense, and she would also appear very sad and distant.

This was the look Narcissa was most familiar with, of all her mother's faces.

"Sorry Mother," said Andromeda, standing. "We got a little carried away." She edged her foot around to sweep away the candies, hoping they wouldn't be punished further. Their mother didn't look to the floor though, and instead let her eyes fall on Narcissa.

"It's alright," said Druella dreamily, moving forward and sweeping a hand over Andromeda's face. At the window, Bellatrix grimaced in her mother's direction, not moving to accept the touch as it was extended to her. Instead, she glanced out of the window and saw her father bidding good-bye to someone who was leaving in the midst of the rain. It appeared to be a woman. Once the unfamiliar witch was gone, their father turned his stern expression back to the front door and slipped inside.

"My daughters," said Druella, ignorant of Bellatrix's scowl, "My beautiful, beautiful daughters."

Narcissa sat up higher at the praise. Druella looked at her and blinked several times. Then she extended her arms, and Narcissa hurried gratefully into them, because hugs from Mother were a special treat. Andromeda and Bellatrix both hung back.

"Go to bed, my dears," said Druella, and the three girls moved from their spots to their respective beds. Narcissa couldn't remember their mother ever tucking them into bed before, but she did so now, making sure each corner was secure at their shoulders. Bellatrix allowed this with a stiff posture, and she did not respond to her mother's wish of a good night. Andromeda tried to smile a little, nodding in reply.

Narcissa held out her arms happily, hoping for another hug, and Druella delivered it with another vacant smile.

"Good night, my daughters," said Druella, moving across the dark room. The storm outside only seemed to intensify, pounding against the house as if the home had personally offended it. The candle was extinguished, and the candy forgotten. The three girls relaxed slowly as the door closed.

"Good night," said Narcissa to her sisters.

"Good night, Cissy," said Andromeda. "Good night, Bella." A pause when the oldest sister didn't respond. "Bella?"

"Good night," said Bellatrix at last. She was staring at the window still, wrapped up in her bed. The girls settled in and gradually fell asleep.

For hours, the storm raged on, but Narcissa found comfort enough to sleep. Then, for no reason she could name, something startled her awake in the early hours of the morning. On a day of pleasant weather, the sky might've been brighter, making way for the sun as it rose. However, the storm kept the world outside devastatingly dark.

Still, Narcissa awoke, blinking in confusion for a moment before shifting to her side in an attempt to return to sleep. She didn't, though, because she spotted at that moment her mother sitting in the room with them. Druella was sitting in a rocking chair in the corner of the room, fast asleep.

Narcissa's heart leapt. Her mother was watching over them. What a good mother she was!

Crawling from her bed, Narcissa padded across the cold floor on bare feet and reached the sleeping woman. "Mother," she said, touching her arm. "You can come and get into bed with me, if you want." She paused, but nothing happened. Narcissa shook her harder. "Mother, wake up! You shouldn't sleep in a chair. Mother!"

By then, Andromeda and Bellatrix had both awakened, and they came over behind Narcissa as she attempted to wake her mother again. "Mother! Wake up!" said Narcissa more insistently. Behind her, Bellatrix and Andromeda both looked to the small table next to the rocking chair, where a drinking glass and an overturned potion bottle waited, both empty. The smell from the potion bottle was noxious.

"Mother!" said Narcissa again, growing more frantic, but now Andromeda was moving forward, shaking Druella furiously. Then she reached up to touch her neck, and her eyes widened.

"Merlin," she whispered, her eyes wide with terror. "No! No, we've got to – "

"Get out of the way," growled Bellatrix, shoving them both aside. Their mother's head rolled to the side but otherwise the motionless body did nothing. The skin was cold to the touch, and Narcissa could still feel it under her fingers.

"Mother…?" Narcisa said, her eyes filling with tears. "Andromeda, what's wrong with her? What's wrong with Mother?" When she saw her older sister was crying, Narcissa began to panic. "Tell me what's going on!" she shouted, but instead Andromeda began to drag Narcissa away from where her mother sat.

Bellatrix was screaming now.

"HOW DARE YOU?" she shrieked at the lifeless witch. "HOW DARE YOU, YOU SELFISH BITCH!" Bellatrix had Druella by the shoulders now and she was yelling right into her face. Andromeda was crying so heavily, she could scarcely pull Narcissa away, but finally she managed to drag her youngest sister out of the room and down the hallway. Bellatrix's voice continued to shriek. She hadn't even noticed they'd left.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?" screamed Bellatrix from the room. "HOW COULD YOU LEAVE US WITH HIM?  _I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU_!"

Together, Andromeda and Narcissa found a closet and huddled together in it, sobbing. They could not see anything anymore, it was too dark for that. But they could hear Bellatrix, as if she were in every room of the house. Their father must have been close enough to hear; surely anyone in London could have.

But he didn't come up, so Bellatrix screamed all night.

* * *

**_1972_ **

The train whistle blasted loudly, startling Narcissa from her thoughtful inspection.

"You have everything, then?"

Sixteen-year-old Narcissa looked up at her sister, who beamed down at her. "Yes," she told Andromeda with a small smile. "Stop babying me."

"I'm sorry," said Andromeda. "It's just – your first year at school without either of us there –" At Narcissa's glare, Andromeda stopped and rolled her eyes a bit. "Okay, okay. I get it. You'll be fine."

"Better than fine," said Narcissa, standing as straight as she could. "Now I will be the only Black sister in attendance at Hogwarts, and all eyes will be on me." Besides, any time spent away from home was welcome in Narcissa's opinion. The fact that she would no longer be in the shadows of her sisters was just extra.

"Of course they will," said Andromeda, adjusting one of her own dark curls. "You're the very best that school has seen." She touched Narcissa's face and leaned closer. "And when you come home for summer holidays, we'll prove it to everyone by having your big debut. Young wizards will be scrambling all over themselves for you!"

Narcissa felt her spine straighten under the praise. The train whistle blew again, and she knew she had to go. "Is Bellatrix coming to say good – "

"Here I am, here I am," said the eldest sister, appearing in an instant. Narcissa looked to Bellatrix and let out a breath of relief, even as her sister's heavy-lidded eyes looked over the platform disapprovingly. "Merlin, this place smells worse every year," Bellatrix said, looking over some students as they parted to get on the train. Then she looked to Narcissa.

"Well, Cissy, I hope you're ready. Big sister won't be there to protect you this year."

"I don't need protecting," said Narcissa hotly. "Besides, I have my friends."

"Ah," said her Bellatrix, as if this was news to her. Bellatrix had never had any friends at Hogwarts. "Go on, then. Get aboard." Narcissa gripped her elegant leather handbag, adjusted her fine coat and nodded smartly.

"Good-bye," she said to them both, though she hesitated, and then she quickly moved forward, taking both of her sisters' hands and giving them a squeeze, which made Andromeda beam and Bellatrix pat her awkwardly on the top of her hand. Placated, Narcissa moved away from her sisters and – although she wanted to sprint onto the train –forced herself to walk slowly and elegantly, with every air of importance, as if the Hogwarts Express had been sent just for her.

As the two older sisters watched Narcissa board, Bellatrix folded her arms and said to Andromeda without looking at her, "This is the third year in a row he hasn't seen her off."

Andromeda kept her gaze on the train and a careful smile on her face. "It's better that he isn't here, you know that," she told her sister. "Father's not well."

"Stop making it sound as though he's ill," said Bellatrix, not bothering to hide her sneer. She turned and sent a glare Andromeda's way. "And stop making excuses for him. He deserves none of it."

Andromeda sighed and opened her mouth to reply, but Bellatrix was gone.

Shoulders dropping, Andromeda turned on the platform and walked away just as the train began to roll forward. She did not have time to wait and wave good-bye further; a seat at Madame Lebelle's Finishing School for Witches was waiting for her.

* * *

It was not long before Narcissa found her friends, many of whom were crowded into one compartment that was quite over capacity. Narcissa didn't mind, though. She preferred large groups. Any time it came down to just a few girls, she felt their eyes on her, and although Narcissa knew she had every reason to lead her group of friends as the most brilliant and beautiful of them, it somehow managed to never work out that way.

That would change this year, she decided. Her sisters were gone, and Narcissa knew she was now the most eligible pure-blood witch at Hogwarts. Sure, Andromeda had gotten the best grades in her year, and Bellatrix – although not necessarily popular with other witches – got lots of attention from the more daring wizards of her year, but Narcissa truly felt she deserved to be at the center of attention now. And it would happen. She was determined.

"Oh, I love your bag!" piped up Agatha Bullstrode. "I didn't even know that brand was available in England!"

"It's not," said Narcissa smugly. "But I wanted it, so my father had it express shipped from Paris."

"It is nice," chimed in Ellaria Nott, who had been Narcissa's closest friend until fourth year before she'd decided, for whatever reason, that she and Narcissa were in competition with each other rather than friends. "But pity it isn't in the tartan pattern. That's the one all the celebrities are using!"

The other girls quickly agreed, and Narcissa forced herself not to roll her eyes. The tartan prints had been ugly, but she resolved that she'd get one next time anyway.

Sybil Flint, who looked like a pug, giggled and brandished her own bag, the same brand as Narcissa's but with the print Ellaria had spoken of. The other girls shrieked and Narcissa was forgotten. Scowling inwardly, Narcissa edged forward and squealed with the other girls over the bag.

The train rolled on, and soon all the students were changed into their robes. All of Narcissa's friends shared her house, although there was the occasion that a Ravenclaw or two joined them, depending on her upbringing and how forgiving the mood of The Group was. Marching into the school, many of the girls linked arms, happy to be reunited. Ellaria, apparently deciding that she and Narcissa were friends once more, took arms with her and Sybil flanked Narcissa's other side.

"Oh, I'm so glad to be back!" exclaimed Sybil.

"Why?" asked Ellaria with a laugh. "You're stupid in school." She paused, before adding sweetly, "No offense, of course. I'm sure you're good at other things."

Sybil made a face. "I don't have to be good in school to know that this is where my future husband is. We only have two years left, girls! Two years to make our best impressions on this school's most eligible wizards. If we're lucky, we can get one to fall head over heels for us without even having to go to that awful finishing school!"

"No wizard worth his wand would have you without Madam Lebelle's," said Ellaria, rolling her eyes. "Besides, we both know your family can't afford it. Not after that whole scandal last year."

Sybil flushed. "That's all been smoothed over now," she said, but Ellaria caught Narcissa's eye, and the two giggled at Sybil's embarrassment. "Really," said Sybil. "Most of that was just rumor anyway."

Glad to be on the other end of the harassment, Narcissa looked to Sybil and said, "What are rumors, really, but truths yet put to parchment?" She smirked, and Ellaria laughed. Sybil clamped her mouth shut and said nothing else as the three girls reached their table and sat down.

Someone else began talking about their summer vacation, which immediately distracted both Ellaria and Sybil ("Oh, you went to Brussels? I heard it's really quite dirty there") and Narcissa turned away to look down the length of the Slytherin table.

Other students filed in, many chattering with one another, happy to be back with their friends. Teachers gathered at the front of the Great Hall, shaking hands and exchanging well wishes. However, Narcissa was not looking at them, but at the handsome seventh year student sitting several spots away, on the opposite side of the Slytherin table.

"Would you look at that," said Elizabeth Burke, following Narcissa's longing gaze. "Lucius Malfoy was made Head Boy!"

"Of course he was," said Sybil. "I'm surprised they didn't give it to him in his third year! Everyone knows the teachers favor him."

"He deserves it," sighed Narcissa wistfully. "He gets top marks, he's handsome, he's  _rich_  – "

"And taken," cut in Ellaria, eyebrows raised. "Or have you forgotten about a little someone called Corinne Lestrange?"

Narcissa's dreamy look vanished because for a moment, she had actually forgotten about Corinne Lestrange. But then the beautiful dark-skinned witch swept down the length of the table and gracefully moved into the spot next to Lucius, which he had saved for her. As soon as she was seated, Corinne looked over at Lucius and offered her sly smile to the Head Boy, who gazed at her adoringly. Corinne placed a hand on Lucius' shoulder and cast a narrow-eyed glare around the table, so that her position there was crystal clear.

"They've been dating since  _fourth year_ ," said Agatha. "And everyone knows Malfoy is wild for her. The two are inseparable!"

"They're practically betrothed," added Ellaria, unwilling to let the attention shift away from her. "You don't stand a chance, Narcissa." She giggled. "No offense."

Narcissa hid a frown. "We'll see."

"You better not let Corrine catch you looking at him," said Mischa, a fifth year. "She's vicious, you know."

"Even your sister Bellatrix only crossed her once," added Sybil. "That was a sight to see!"

"The girls lavatory will never be the same," sighed Mischa.

The girls continued to chatter, but Narcissa tuned them out as the first year students filed in and prepared to be sorted. Despite her friends' warnings, Narcissa couldn't help but look over at Lucius Malfoy longingly whenever she felt neither he nor Corinne was watching.

Lucius Malfoy was a powerful wizard, Narcissa thought, but it was more than that. The Blacks were an important family, but the Malfoys were  _the_ family of Wizarding Britain, and Lucius was the sole heir. Not only that, he was positively gorgeous, with long white blond hair, sharp angular features and grey eyes to die for.

Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy had never once spoken to Narcissa, nor she to him, and even though he was only one year ahead of her, she had never once mustered up the courage to speak to him in the Common Room or anywhere else. This was mostly because, as her friends had pointed out, Lucius had been attached at the hip (and Merlin knows where else) to Corinne Lestrange for quite a long time, and Corinne was not to be crossed.

This year, though, Narcissa was finally confident enough to place herself in Lucius' path. Once she did this, she was certain (though she couldn't explain why) that Lucius would finally see that Corinne Lestrange was not worth his time, despite the fact that she was indeed one of the most beautiful witches Narcissa had ever seen.

Narcissa's eyes shifted to the witch in question.

Corinne had lovely dark skin and silky jet black hair, with large hazel eyes and long eyelashes. She often wore red on her lips, giving her smooth features a burst of color that also somehow managed to be intimidating. Perhaps it was her smirk, which always seemed more malicious than amused, or the way her eyes narrowed on practically everyone. Even those within her circle were intimidated by her, and the only person in the entire school who didn't seem to feel she was the walking incarnation of the Killing Curse was Lucius Malfoy, who had been enamored with her for years.

Corinne shifted her steely gaze in Narcissa's direction, and Narcissa quickly looked away. Still, she clenched her jaw and fought not to look intimidated. No more. She was in control this year.

At the front, the sorting of the first years had begun, and very soon, a familiar name was read.

"Sirius Black!"

A little boy with messy hair and a cocky swagger moved across the stage and sat on the stool, where Professor Minerva McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. "Curious," said the hat aloud, and it seemed to chuckle. "Definitely… GRYFFINDOR!"

The boy jumped up with a triumphant shout, yanked the Sorting Hat off his head, tossed it into the air and then ran to the Slytherin table, where he slammed down both hands and shouted gleefully, "IN YOUR FACES!" He did a little dance, much to Narcissa's mortification.

"Mister Black!" exclaimed McGonagall. "Please join your table and behave properly!"

Narcissa pulled back as far as she could from the offending little troll as he hurried off, laughing maniacally as he joined his fellow simpletons. "My aunt and uncle are in the process of disowning him  _as we speak_ ," hissed Narcissa emphatically to her friends. "He's practically off the tapestry already!"

"Disgraceful," muttered Sybil, while Agatha turned up her nose. The rest of the Slytherins at the table scoffed and scowled accordingly.

Finally, the ceremony came to an end, dinner was served, and Narcissa managed to impress the group by going on in detail about her upcoming debut, which she promised would be the event of the season. After a while, dinner was over and the students were released to go their respective dormitories.

Narcissa got up to head out with her friends, only to be bumped by someone. When she looked up, she saw Corinne Lestrange looking back at her over her shoulder, eyes dangerous. Then the older witch took Lucius' arm in hers and the two older students moved off.

_This is my year_ , Narcissa told herself.  _I can feel it._


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Hey guys! Glad for the interest! Hope you continue to enjoy. Remember, this story will eventually catch up and overlap "The Sacred Twenty-Eight," so stay tuned!

* * *

The first day of classes brought with it an atmosphere of excitement.

New school books carefully arranged in her bag, Narcissa strutted to and from her classes, determined to make everyone see that she was the only remaining Black sister and, therefore, the only person anyone should pay attention to.

This was a little difficult, as there were a lot of students and many of them tried to avoid the Slytherins rather than gaze adoringly upon them, but Narcissa was determined. To her great surprise, her newfound confidence worked well for most of the day. The circle of friends Narcissa had spent years cultivating now seemed to be looking to her more, and as Narcissa regaled them over breakfast with the details of her newest set of dress robes, she was pleased to find that they gave her their unwavering attention.

Well satisfied, Narcissa headed into her last class of the day with Elizabeth and Sybil following closely behind, eager to hear more about the luxurious condo her aunt was renovating on the coast. "It was positively unlivable when they bought it," Narcissa said as the trio stepped down into the Potions classroom. "Everything in there was  _Norman_ in design. So out of fashion!"

The other two witches exchanged glances and Sybil pursed her lips, because her family's home was entirely in Norman design and Narcissa knew that. Still, the Black sister simply smiled and shrugged one shoulder, taking her spot at one of the tables near the front. Sybil and Elizabeth filed in behind her, and Agatha and Ellaria ended up a few seats away.

"Alright, alright," said Professor Slughorn, ushering the students in. "Find your places, get your seats… Mr. Travers, it's a little early in the semester to be starting fires, don't you think? There's a good lad."

As soon as the class was assembled, Slughorn looked out happily over the students, his olive green robes looking extra fluffy this year, though perhaps he was the one who was a little fluffier than before.

"Welcome, welcome back to Hogwarts! Be proud of yourselves, for you have managed quite the achievement – N.E.W.T. level Potions!"

Narcissa glanced around disinterestedly. As this was a N.E.W.T. level course, it contained students from all houses, rather than just Slytherin and Gryffindor. For the first time, Narcissa was working alongside Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as well. She wrinkled her nose.

At the front of the room, Slughorn clapped his hands together.

"Now, no rest for the wicked, as they say, eh heh," he grinned at them all. "First things first – we have a rather large and involved project to do this first term, so now I would like for you to choose part – "

The class instantly scrambled, even before the word "partners" was out of Slughorn's mouth. Narcissa shifted quickly, but Sybil and Elizabeth had already grabbed one another. Apparently, Narcissa's earlier cutting remark about Norman design had stung worse than she'd thought, because Sybil shot her a venomous smile and continued to cling to Elizabeth.

"Sorry," she said, and Elizabeth giggled meanly.

Desperate, Narcissa turned to look for the other Slytherin girls, but Agatha and Ellaria were already standing next to one another, and they linked arms before Narcissa could even move. Just then, the door to the classroom opened.

"Sorry, professor," said a lanky wizard as he entered. He had a thick Scottish accent and the Hufflepuff crest emblazoned on his robes. "Peeves," the newcomer explained to Slughorn on his lateness, and the old professor chuckled.

"No further explanation needed, my boy," he said, turning back to the classroom. "I was just telling everyone else to choose partners for a term project – why, Miss Black!"

Narcissa froze.

"It seems you're without a partner, eh? Well, Mister Stewart can certainly help you out there!" Slughorn gestured, and the Hufflepuff wizard shifted in Narcissa's direction. Without hesitating, he joined her at the table and Slughorn nodded, well satisfied.

Narcissa, meanwhile, refused to believe what was happening. Behind her, Sybil and Elizabeth began giggling rather loudly. A  _Hufflepuff_ , good lord. The embarrassment! Narcissa resolutely kept her gaze forward and refused to look at the approaching wizard, who came to her side and put his bag down in the chair right next to her. He stayed standing, though, peering at the cauldron and the various supplies.

"Good, good," said Slughorn happily. "Now, for the project. This term, you and your partner will tackle one of the potions I have listed here – " he gestured to the chalkboard – "and attempt not only to create it, but also to research and discover alternative ingredients that may be used to achieve the same desired effect. In essence, you will be doing in-depth analysis of very complicated potions and attempting to recreate them with your version!" Slughorn waggled his finger. "Now, that means you have two potions to create – one being the topic potion, and the next your own recipe with the same desired effect. This is no easy task! It will take a great deal of time and research. But I am confident you all can do it!"

Narcissa considered attempting to Apparate, in the hopes that she would splinch herself and die.

Slughorn dismissed the students to communicate with their partners and choose a potion. Next to Narcissa, the Hufflepuff wizard shifted in her direction and smiled. "Hello there," he said in his thick Scottish lilt. "I don't think we've met before. I'm Iain Stewart."

Narcissa's blue eyes flickered in Iain's direction and then looked back to her book, which she shuffled in a pointed attempt to ignore him. Iain paused, waiting for her response, and when she didn't give him one, he chuckled a bit and raised both brows, shaking his head.

"And it is  _so_  nice to meet you," he said, leaning over to peer at her name on the parchment , " … Narcissa." He grinned. At this, Narcissa sighed and shifted in his direction, her lips pursed.

"Can we just get this done as soon as possible?" she asked. "I don't like wasting my time with pleasantries."

"So I can see," said Iain lightly. After another pause, in which Narcissa grimaced at the chalkboard as if she were deep in thought, Iain leaned over a bit and said, "Perhaps now is a bad time to tell you I'm terrible at potions."

Narcissa scowled. "Don't be stupid. You wouldn't be in this class if you were terrible at potions."

As soon as Iain smiled, Narcissa realized her mistake. "Why, thank you for the compliment," he said heartily, enjoying Narcissa's slow-building rage. He chuckled again. "Look, obviously we're going to have to work together, and I promise to do my share, so relax." He looked up at the chalkboard. "Which one do you prefer?"

"Just pick something," said Narcissa.

Iain made a thoughtful noise. "Draught of Living Death."

Narcissa balked. "That's the most complicated one!"

"You said I could pick," pointed out Iain pleasantly. Narcissa huffed, and Iain waved a hand. "If you don't think you can do it…"

"Oh, I can do it," snipped Narcissa. How dare he suggest that she was less than capable? She didn't have to take N.E.W.T. level potions to be a rich wizard's wife, but she could hardly sit around doing nothing, wasting her valuable time, now could she?

"Can you?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"I guess we'll find out," Iain said with a smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Narcissa took in a deep breath and resigned herself to a miserable time. "We should start out with some reading," she said at last. " _Silent_  reading."

Iain nodded and picked up his own book. "Sounds reasonable enough." He started to do just as Narcissa asked, but that was when she caught sight of his hands.

"Good lord," she said, scandalized. "What on earth happened to your hands? You hardly even need gloves with skin like that!"

Iain glanced up from his book and looked down at his palms, which were covered with cuts, old and new, as well as some rather impressive calluses. There was nothing wrong with his hands, really, but they were rather coarse looking.

"Oh," he said, as if he hadn't noticed Narcissa's disgust, "I help my father at his shop during the summers. It's pretty rough work." At Narcissa's look of confusion, he added, "My father is a carpenter."

Narcissa raised a brow, and Iain smiled again. "You know, a builder? He makes furniture."

"With his bare hands?" asked Narcissa, aghast.

"That's right," said Iain, as if he were talking to a child, both amused and exasperated. At that moment, realization hit Narcissa, and she forgot all about her reading.

"Your father is a Muggle?"

Iain's smile softened, though not in a tender way. It seemed he expected what was to come next. "Aye, he is. My maw, too. She's a school teacher, though." Then he turned back to his textbook, as if he hadn't just horrified Narcissa into a stupor.

Behind them, Elizabeth and Sybil had obviously been listening in, because they suddenly burst into poorly-stifled laughter. Iain ignored it, and Narcissa flushed bright red, even as she tried her hardest to stare a hole into her Potions book.

A Mudblood. A  _Mudblood Hufflepuff_  was sitting right next to her, and she was to work with him for the remainder of the term. How?  _How_? What, in all her sixteen years, had Narcissa done to deserve such unfair and cruel treatment? Surely nothing she had done had been so terrible.

Iain continued to read, and although he must have heard the Slytherin girls behind them, snickering and whispering, he paid them no attention at all. He did try to speak to Narcissa once or twice, but the furious young witch refused to acknowledge him again.

At last, the class ended, and Iain gathered up his things. "Look forward to working with you," he said, and Narcissa steadfastly ignored him. She felt like crying. Iain left without another word, quickly catching up with some friends at the door.

Snatching up her bag and hurrying away from the table, Narcissa rushed up to Slughorn's desk as soon as she was able. "Professor Slughorn," she said, nearly trembling. "I need to speak with you." The elderly professor looked to Narcissa with concern.

"What is it, my dear?"

Narcissa shifted away from the crowd of students as they departed. Sybil and the other Slytherin girls were trying to wait behind long enough to eavesdrop, but Narcissa lowered her voice and eventually they had to shuffle away.

"Sir, I need a new partner for the project."

Slughorn frowned. "And why is that, Miss Black?"

"Because I can't work with Iain Stewart!" burst out Narcissa, forgetting all decorum. She quickly gathered her most pleading features, the sort of teary-eyed stare that had worked on countless wizards before Slughorn. "He's – he's unfit, as a partner."

Slughorn seemed to sense the direction of all this, and he drew himself up a bit taller. "Now, Miss Black…"

"Please, Professor! I'll be a joke if I work with him! A pariah!" pleaded Narcissa. "And you know it's true. You know what he is – a Mud –"

" _Miss_  Black," interrupted Slughorn sternly. "I suggest you choose your words very carefully from here on out."

Narcissa wilted under Slughorn's firm look, and she knew the battle was lost. Fury filled her again. How dare he! Choosing a Mudblood over one of his own! Some Head of Slytherin he was. Narcissa tried to think of something else to say, anything else, but she lost her words and finally she just sniffled and turned away. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. Then she walked out, gripping her bag strap tightly.

The other Slytherin girls were waiting for her, and as soon as they saw her face, they exploded with a mixture of laughter and feigned sympathies. "Oh, that is the worst!" exclaimed Agatha, fanning herself. "I can't even imagine. Did he smell?"

"I would write to my father immediately," said Ellaria snidely. "No way I'd work with a Mudblood!"

"Did you talk to Slughorn?" asked Sybil. "Surely he'll let you change partners?"

Narcissa shook her head miserably. "He wouldn't allow it," she said, before clearing her throat and thrusting her chin in the air arrogantly. "I suppose he's little more than a blood traitor, Slughorn. We'll see how happy he is with his decision when my father hears about this! He'll be in real trouble then!"

"I doubt it," said Elizabeth with a prim, tight smile. "Slughorn has plenty of other well-known supporters. Think of the Slug Club!"

"I am a Black," said Narcissa, rounding on Elizabeth. "And no Black ever has, or ever will, work with a dirty low-born Mudblood." Then she stomped off, determined to be out of sight before her so-called friends saw her cry.

* * *

What had started as such a promising day ended in misery.

Narcissa picked at her food during the evening meal and didn't talk much, even as her friends chatted around her, happy and excited and all manner of things pleasant. As Narcissa was pushing around her pudding for the tenth time, an owl arrived with a letter for her.

Narcissa accepted the letter but didn't open it at the table, instead rising and leaving her friends behind. Once she was safely tucked away in the corner of an outside courtyard, Narcissa illuminated the letter with the tip of her wand and read it.

_Dear Cissy,_

_I hope your first day at Hogwarts went well. I've been thinking of you so much since we parted! I know you will have a great year, and you will do us proud, as you always do! Always remember – none compares to you, my sister!_

_I arrived at Madam Labelle's last night, and I had my first "lessons" today. I can't say they were any fun, but at least it will be over soon. Only two years of this before Father finds me a suitable match, and then I will be done with schooling forever!_

_I do miss you, though. I expected that Bellatrix would be here, too, but she never showed up this morning. Have you heard from her? She should have another year left at Madam Labelle's, but I haven't seen her at all. Perhaps she's going to come in late. You know how she is._

_Anyway, I should probably end this letter now. This place has such strict bed times, worse than Hogwarts!_

_Write me soon._

_All the love,_

_Andromeda_

Sighing, Narcissa folded the letter and tucked it into her robes before slowly making her way back to the Slytherin Common Room. Down in the dungeons of the castle she went, making a face as the temperature dropped considerably. When Narcissa came to the portrait, she gave the password (" _Tribbles"_ ) and climbed inside, exhausted and sad.

Then she spotted him – Lucius Malfoy, Head Boy, seated on a lounge in the Slytherin Common Room. As Head Boy, he had his own private quarters, and he did not need to spend time in the Common Room unless he wished. Still, there he was, looking so dashing that Narcissa briefly felt all her troubles slip away as she looked at him.

Then Corinne Lestrange slipped in from the shadows and smiled cattily as she ran her hands down Lucius' front from behind. When she whispered in his ear, Lucius' features took on a predatory smirk and he quickly got up, leaving the room with her.

Any happiness Narcissa might have salvaged from the day vanished in an instant. Despondent, she gripped the letter from Andromeda to her chest and hurried up the stairs to the girls dormitories.

* * *

_Dear Andromeda,_

_I'm glad to hear you're safe at Madam Labelle's. I don't know where Bellatrix is, but I'm sure she'll turn up soon. She always does._

_My first day at Hogwarts was wonderful. All the girls are very jealous of my upcoming debut. I told them all about Father's determination to see me as the most beautiful witch of my year. They know their own families cannot possibly compete, so a few of them are being rude about it, but I don't care._

_I'm sorry your classes aren't very fun. I'm sure they're more entertaining than mine. I'm taking Transfiguration, Arithmancy, History of Magic, Charms and Potions. I'm so glad I don't have to take that horrid Care of Magical Creatures class anymore. So dirty!_

_So you see, you needn't worry about me. I'm doing very well, and I'm sure I'll succeed at being the most eligible witch in my year when I finish here._

_Has Father written to you yet? I'm hoping he writes this year, but I know he's very busy._

_All the love,_

_Cissy_


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thanks for the interest, guys! Hope you continue to enjoy!

* * *

_After that first day in Potions, I began to realize – with the utmost dread – that this year was not to go the way I had planned. Instead, it seemed to grow worse with each passing day._

_By three weeks into the term, Bellatrix had yet to show up at Madam Labelle's Finishing School, and there was starting to be talk. Andromeda was doing her best to quell the whispers, but it was hardly any use. Gossip was as abundant as blades of grass, and all I knew to tell my friends was that Bellatrix sometimes disappeared, which was true, and that there was nothing to worry about._

_Unfortunately, this also meant that I could not campaign for my father to interfere concerning my partnership in Potions, as he was apparently now aware of Bellatrix's absence and entirely devoted to her discovery and punishment._

_This was not the first time my sister had done something like this, but it felt different this time. Perhaps it was that Andromeda was no longer around to comfort me. Or perhaps it was the additional gossip that came along with Bellatrix's absence… the scandalized rumors concerning my father and his activities at the Ministry. However, I determinedly brushed such whispers away._

_Perhaps my father wasn't perfect, but he cared for me – or at least, that is what I told myself. And he would respond to my letters soon. I was sure of it._

_Sooner than I cared for, September faded away, and October took its place. And still I had heard nothing from neither Father nor Bellatrix. Even Andromeda's letters began to grow sparse and thin._

_And so I began to feel truly, desperately alone, for the very first time in my life._

* * *

"So, I have an idea."

Lips pursed, Narcissa dragged her eyes away from her textbook to look in Iain's direction. A mid-October storm beat on the stone walls of Hogwarts, and even though the Potions classroom had no windows, the howling of wind and rain carried far down the corridors and leaked into the dungeons, further adding to their eeriness.

"What is it this time?" asked Narcissa, eyes narrowed on the Hufflepuff.

"Salt," said Iain chipperly. At Narcissa's dubious look, Iain turned back to their shared cauldron. "We need to find another ingredient to absorb the moisture in the dragon's liver, right? Then we can use that instead of the Sloth's brain."

Narcissa sighed her all-suffering sigh. "It won't work," she told him.

"Why not?" asked Iain, picking up the vial of table salt. "It has all the right properties."

"Because," said Narcissa with a roll of her eyes, "anyone who can read knows you can't combine common salt with Valerian root. And Valerian root is  _essential_  to the Draught of Living Death."

"Well," said Iain, wiggling the vial at her, "I think you're wrong. Care to see?"

Narcissa cocked a brow at him. "By all means."

With that, Iain turned back to their cauldron, paused for only a moment of hesitation, and then tapped in a few shakes of salt. The cauldron instantly erupted into a cloud of smoke, making Iain shriek and fall over, so that his long limbs tripped over his stool and nearly sent him to the ground.

When the smoke cleared, he looked up to see Narcissa standing exactly where she had been, lips pressed together in the same unimpressed line she reserved specifically for him. Straightening, Iain cleared his throat and shot her a smile.

"Who could have foreseen that?" he asked, pointing.

"Anyone but you," deadpanned Narcissa.

Iain sighed and looked back at their potion. "Alright, but I really thought it was going to work," he said, frowning over the cauldron. Narcissa didn't say anything, but secretly, she understood his line of reasoning. His suggestion had made sense, if only for that small tidbit about the volatility of the two ingredients, which was not common knowledge. As if sensing this, Iain asked, "Where did you read that Valerian root had those kind of reactions? Because I don't remember Slughorn bringing it up."

Narcissa reached in her bag and held up a weathered library book titled  _Roots, Beans and What It All Means._ Iain took it from her and raised a brow. "Did you check this out just for fun?"

Narcissa snatched it back and put the book away. "No, I did it because I planned on doing most of the work for this project by myself. And so far, you have proven to be no help at all, so my assumption was correct."

Iain made a face. "You haven't done everything by yourself… mostly because we haven't really accomplished anything." He leaned against the table and looked thoughtful. "There has to be some way to use the dragon's liver, if only we can get it dried out without losing its potency."

"I've already told you," Narcissa said heatedly, "The reason no one uses dragon's liver as a substitute for Sloth brain is because it doesn't work. Gethsemane Prickle couldn't even figure it out!"

"Who is Gethsemane Prickle?" asked Iain. "Because that's a terrible name."

Narcissa scowled and turned back to their work without saying anything else. At her side, Iain's lips quirked in a little smile. "Really," he said after a moment. "Tell me about him."

Narcissa exhaled, slowly regaining control of herself as she ticked her eyes in the direction of Iain. "Gethsemane Prickle," she said in measured tones, "was a renowned Potions master, and she was a  _witch_ , not a wizard. She worked mostly with Herbology, and she pioneered a great deal of magical beast research with the Ministry of Magic in her time. She was revolutionary."

This Iain listened to attentively, and when Narcissa finished, he gave her a little smile. "You know," he said lightly, "it's interesting to me that you can tell me all that… and yet whenever I hear anyone else in class ask you a question, you pretend as though you don't know anything."

Narcissa paused, her eyes flickering around the room and refusing to land on Iain.

"In fact," went on Iain, eyes twinkling, "just last week, I overheard you letting Angus Avery explain Slughorn's lecture to you, even though I know you understood it just fine. And Avery wasn't even  _right_."

At this, Narcissa balked and shifted away from Iain, eyebrows raised. "So?"

"Well," said Iain, "I suppose my question is… Why?"

Annoyed, Narcissa folded her arms. "Don't pretend as though you don't know."

Iain raised a brow.

Sighing, Narcissa turned back to the table and distractedly re-arranged their ingredients, pretty features pinched. "Because no one likes a know-it-all of course," she said. "Especially not a know-it-all witch."

"A good pure-blooded witch must only be three things," went on Narcissa primly. "Pretty, polished and present.  _Not_  intelligent." Taking a seat on her stool, Narcissa closed her textbook, as it was obvious they would accomplish nothing in the time left to them. "Wizards need to feel a sense of power in relationships, and no wizard worth his wand wants a wife who knows more than he does."

Iain looked perplexed. "So what you're saying is, you pretend to be empty-headed so wizards aren't threatened by your intelligence?"

Narcissa drummed her fingers on the desk. "I suppose you could put it that way." Her eyes shifted down to her polished fingernails. "It simply isn't becoming of a witch to appear  _too_  clever."

"And I suppose you don't care about being too clever with me because…?" he trailed off.

"Correct, because your opinion is of no consequence," finished Narcissa with a catty squint of her face. Iain surprised her by chuckling and shaking his head.

"Well, I realize this may come as a shock to you, but I'm glad you don't do that with me. Because I would rather have an interesting conversation with a clever girl than an empty conversation with a balloon any day, no matter how pretty she is," said Iain.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "That just goes to show how little you truly understand things in the wizarding world, given your  _disreputable_  background."

The amusement faded from Iain's features. "Disreputable background? You mean being raised by Muggles?"

"Precisely," said Narcissa.

Iain shifted, irritation flashing over his features as he pulled up an arm and leaned on it, close to Narcissa. "Look, I hate to break it to you, but the kind of things you're saying – about the whole, demure, empty-headed lady playing second fiddle to an arrogant, cocky jerk who constantly needs his ego stroked – that's something Muggles already dealt with and moved past about twenty years ago." He raised both brows. "So, you can keep thinking we're all backwards and ignorant, but the truth is, you and your pure-blood lot are the ones still living like a bunch of medieval tyrants."

Narcissa's lips parted in surprise, and her cheeks flamed a bit. "How dare you –"

"That's the time, children," called Slughorn from the front of the room. "Class dismissed!"

Iain gathered his things, even as Narcissa continued to glower. When he stood, he shifted back to face Narcissa with a sigh. "What fool even told you all of that nonsense? About wizards not wanting to marry a witch who was clever? Because whoever did it, you should go back and let them know they didn't do you any favors," said Iain.

Narcissa stood, joints tight with fury.  _Stupid smug Mudblood!_  She wished she could strike him down in that moment and then step over his corpse on her way to the door.

"My  _mother_  taught me," Narcissa hissed as the rest of the class dispersed, her body trembling. "And I can't go back and tell her anything, because she's dead."

Iain's features shifted into shock, and immediate regret passed over his face. However, Narcissa had no time to reflect on it, because her body moved of its own accord and soon she was stomping out of the classroom with her bags in hand and her chest heaving painfully.

* * *

Narcissa's day did not improve following Potions.

Distracted and lethargic for the rest of the day, Narcissa moved through her classes with scarcely an ounce of awareness of what was going on around her. In Charms, she lost five points from Slytherin for messing up a very simple exercise, and in Transfiguration, one of the stupid Gryffindor boys misdirected a spell and turned Narcissa's bag into a grindylow. And that old cow McGonagall had given him five points for it! Said it was the most impressive transfigured grindylow she'd ever seen, despite the obvious fact that it was a complete fluke.

At dinner, Narcissa sat at the Slytherin table surrounded by friends, and had not a single one to talk to. Everything seemed to be happening around her, but not to her, and no one seemed to notice or care or have any concern for her at all. Pushing around her food on her plate, Narcissa ate not a single bite, eyes low.

An owl fluttered by and dropped a letter next to her utensils. Glancing up, Narcissa frowned and reached for the letter. However, Sybil snatched it first. Narcissa managed to snap out of her haze. "Hey, that's mine!"

"Oh, relax," said Sybil, ripping it open. "We're all friends here. What could you possibly have to hide?"

"Stop," said Narcissa, reaching for her letter again, but Sybil yanked it back and the other girls giggled when Narcissa's robe sleeve dipped into her gravy. Scowling, Narcissa pulled her robe up and tried to grab for the letter again, but Agatha Bullstrode took it this time and opened it with a snicker.

"Dear Cissy," she read, even as Narcissa jumped up to make one last grab at the letter, "The worst has happened. Father has – " Agatha stopped with a gasp, and the other girls leaned in, even as Narcissa's heart threatened to explode. "Father has been found out in an affair with a married witch at the Ministry!"

Narcissa's heart dropped into her stomach, and she finally managed to snatch the letter away from Agatha, who was too delighted in her discovery to even recover the parchment again. "Stop it! That's not what it says!" Narcissa snapped, but Agatha only laughed. Stuffing the letter in her bag, Narcissa jumped up and ran out of the Great Hall, tears pushing their way to the surface as she shoved her way outside and ran into the still rainy evening. As soon as she was alone, Narcissa ducked near a torch flame and scanned Andromeda's letter.

Whimpers escaped her, growing louder even as she continued.

…  _apparently not his first affair …_

…  _Bellatrix still missing …_

…  _threatening to fire him from his position …_

Shame swept over Narcissa like a heavy weight, rolling over every inch of her body until she felt suffocated beneath it. Sobbing, Narcissa shoved the letter away once more and hurried to one of the most desolate courtyards on the ground, far from the nearest entrance to Hogwarts. The area was so often forgotten that even that scruffy groundskeeper Hagrid rarely came this way.

The earth was wet, and the moon was high as Narcissa sank to the ground, uncaring of the state of her robes or her hair or anything. Oh, how she desperately wished for Andromeda, or even Bellatrix to be there. They had been her only constants, and now her father – who Narcissa had somehow always managed to keep a naïve, child-like faith in – had gone on to humiliate them further, as if their mother's death had not been scandalous enough.

As if there weren't already whispers that he was embezzling gold from the Ministry.

As if everyone didn't know of the abuse he gave both himself and others.

Sobs overwhelmed Narcissa, and she curled her arms around her knees and pressed her face into her upraised knees, too miserable to consider anything else in the world at that moment. For a while, she sat alone, quite forgetting about the world around her.

After nearly an hour, some wet footsteps neared. Narcissa barely registered them.

"… Narcissa?"

Trembling, Narcissa lifted her head to see that stupid bloody Mudblood Hufflepuff from Potions, Iain. His expression was stricken, no doubt from Narcissa's less than kempt appearance. "Are you alright?" he asked, hand on his own bag. Narcissa barely repressed another sob.

"Go away," she snapped, returning her teary face to her knees. It had begun to rain again in a soft drizzle, though the overhang in the courtyard protected them somewhat. Iain glanced up at the rain, but instead of leaving, he lifted his wand and murmured the charm that shielded them from the worst of it. Moving over to Narcissa, he kneeled next to her, so that they were both protected from the weather.

"Hey, look, I … " Iain paused. "I'm sorry, for what I said about your mother, earlier. I didn't know. I shouldn't've spoken like tha'."

Scowling, Narcissa lifted her head, knowing she must appear a complete mess. For once, though, she didn't care. If she hadn't thought this Mudblood's opinion was noteworthy before, she certainly didn't now.

"Go away," she growled. "I'm miserable enough. I don't need your bloody pity."

"I don't want to give you pity," he told her. "I only want you to know that I realize I was wrong. And I'm sorry." Iain hesitated, than sat down next to Narcissa, still holding his wand so that the magical umbrella shielded her. It was a moot point, however; they were both pretty wet already. When Narcissa said nothing, and instead continued to fight against her tears, Iain shifted a little to look at her face. "Are you upset because of me?"

"No!" exclaimed Narcissa, startling them both. "I'm upset because my bloody life is a mess! And you wouldn't understand, you wouldn't understand at all! No one does!"

Iain bit his lip. "Someone might," he argued gently. "Maybe me. Maybe not. But I'm… I'm willing to listen, if you want. I could try."

Narcissa snapped her eyes up to his. "The only way you could help is by letting me hex you into Oblivion! That might be the only thing that makes me feel better!"

"I don't think that would help as much as you think," said Iain, with a small smile. "Care to think of something else that might help?" Narcissa scowled in a very unladylike manner and then set her chin on her soaking wet knees, just so she could glare at the damp, neglected foliage in the courtyard. She refused to say anything, hoping that would make Iain leave.

But he didn't, because why should he do that, and make her life easier? Instead, the stupid Hufflepuff boy turned and leaned his bag against the stone wall which shielded the pair from the worst of the stormy winds, hand ever faithfully holding his wand up to repel the rain.

Together they sat, in complete silence, for nearly half an hour. Narcissa thought about snapping at him again to make him leave, but she quickly realized she didn't have the energy for that.

"What made you come out here?" asked Iain after a while. He had his head tilted back, and Narcissa followed his gaze up to the stars.

Sighing, Narcissa responded in a mutter, "It was  _supposed_  to be the solitude."

Iain's lips quirked. "Sorry about that," he said, and somehow managed to sound genuine as he did so. "But it seems that being alone when you're very upset is never a good idea for long." The rain let up some, and together, the two peered up at the night sky.

Above them, a blanket of deep blue stretched from one end of the world to the next, wrapping the entirety of Hogwarts in a sea of twinkling lights. As the storm abated, each star shone brighter and more vibrant with every passing moment, until the sky positively came alive with them. Free from the rain, shining into clear air, the sky and all its secrets felt uniquely visible to them.

For a moment, Narcissa was able to lean back and enjoy the brilliance, the beauty of everything around them. Iain must have seen the change on her features, because he leaned over a little and pointed at the sky.

"I love seeing the sky this way, without all the city lights," he said quietly in his thick Scottish lilt. "It reminds me of being on the sea."

Narcissa felt far away from Hogwarts, and all the foolish girls in her year. It gave her a pleasurable feeling of separation. As such, she let Iain speak, even glancing at him as he did so.

"You know," went on Iain in soft tones, "the centaurs put a lot of stock in the stars and planets. Some people say they worship them, but I don't think it's that simple. It's more like they … exist with them. They respect them, as if something so far away could really … work with them, instead of away from them."

Narcissa said nothing for a few minutes. And then –

"I really like the stars," she admitted, her voice hoarse. Her skin was freezing. Iain looked over, his eyebrows lifted.

"What do you like about them?" he asked curiously.

Narcissa focused on one bright star in particular. "Lots of things," she said after a moment. "They're beautiful and mysterious. They exist, day in and day out, in their own peculiar formations and rhythms. They have an entire life separate from ours." She paused, feeling Iain's eyes on her but not looking at him. "But perhaps most of all, I envy them."

At last, Narcissa shifted her gaze over to Iain. "The stars so … constant, unwavering. They move in patterns, and they always have secrets to tell… but the night sky, that remains forever theirs. That is their domain." She frowned. "I envy that. The lovely home they have to call their own."

Turning her eyes down to her cold hands, Narcissa bit her lip. "I wish more than anything I could be a part of it."

But she couldn't. Narcissa did not have a place to call her own – not the dormitory in the Slytherin dungeons, not the bedroom she'd shared with her sisters at home. Nothing in that house had been theirs. Everything, forever and always, was His. And he was ruining it.

Whatever their father might have once been willing to give to them, finally, he was destroying now, piece by piece. Narcissa would never have that. Not after two older sisters who desperately needed good matches and inheritances. Not after their mother's scandalous death had ripped from them a portion of their wealth. And certainly not if her father lost all position and prestige thanks to his behavior.

Iain listened, and when Narcissa was done, he looked back up at the sky for a moment. Then he stood and offered her his hand. "Come with me."

Narcissa blinked, momentarily snapped out of her stupor. She was now suspicious once more. "What?"

"Just come, please," said Iain. "If you don't like where we're going, you can hex me."

Well, that certainly made things worth it. Ignoring his hand, Narcissa stood and let Iain take her away from the desolate courtyard. They stepped through a patch of woods on the outskirts of the school grounds, and after a few minutes of trudging through wet and dripping underbrush, Iain turned back to Narcissa.

"Close your eyes."

At this, Narcissa folded her arms. "I think not."

"Five seconds," he promised her, holding up five fingers. "And I swear, if you want, you can put me in full body bind and leave me out here for the wolves, alright?"

Again, Narcissa decided this was tempting enough, and she closed her eyes, albeit with a great deal of reluctance. A hand came to rest on her arm and guide her forward. With her eyes closed, Narcissa sensed they'd stepped out of the trees again, and she felt the brightness of the moon against her face. Then she heard him murmur a spell, " _Semita_." They took several more steps, with Iain leading Narcissa very carefully.

Finally, they stopped, and Narcissa huffed. "Can I open my eyes now?" She was going to enjoy hexing him.

"Aye," said Iain. So Narcissa opened her eyes.

All thoughts of hexes disappeared immediately from her mind, because all around Narcissa was a great dark sea of stars. Her lips parted, Narcissa turned a quick circle and realized both she and Iain were standing directly in the center of the Black Lake, with their feet hovering on some invisible path Iain had created to allow them to walk directly on the water's surface.

The moon was bright and full, and now that the rain had cleared, each and every star reflected perfectly on the massive lake's surface, so that Narcissa could see stars not just above her, but around her and below her and nearly everywhere she looked.

Iain had let go of Narcissa's arm and tucked his own hands into the pockets of his robes. "You see?" he asked, a smirk on his freckled features. "The stars are closer to you than you think," he said. "If only you know where to look for them."

Narcissa's blue eyes flickered up to Iain's face, and she quickly closed her mouth, so he wouldn't see any more of her amazement. Still, she could not resist leaning down and sweeping her fingertips over the glassy surface of the lake, so that she cupped a star in her hand. The simple motion made her smile, which she did without even realizing.

When she stood again, thunder rolled in the distance. Another storm was approaching.

"Should we head back inside?" asked Iain, looking to her.

Narcissa looked all around her and swallowed tightly. After a long pause, she said, almost timidly, "In just a minute?"

Iain smiled, though he quickly tried to hide it. And then he nodded. "Alright," he said.

So they stayed, until the rain finally returned and they walked down the invisible path together. Once they arrived back at Hogwarts, they parted ways without a word and returned to their respective Houses.

* * *

The following morning, Narcissa awoke in her bed and stared at the emerald green canopy for several minutes before rising. The chill from last night had never truly left her, and she added her green and grey scarf to her robes for the first time since her arrival that year.

When she reached the breakfast table, the other girls exchanged glances but didn't address her directly. However, Narcissa refused to be cowed, and she kept her chin high and her cheeks clear of rosiness. When Agatha helped herself to a second round of bacon, Narcissa gave her just enough of a Look – one which cast directly over Agatha's round arms and belly – that the other girl felt shamed enough to put the food back.

Satisfied, Narcissa left the table without any incident.

By the time Narcissa arrived at Potions, she was so focused on making sure the other Slytherin girls found no reason to tease her that she nearly forgot all about Iain. However, as soon as she spotted him, her insides turned to ice. What would he say? What would he do? She had broken down in front of him, exposed herself like a raw nerve.

To Narcissa's knowledge, this was the greatest mistake one could commit. Who knew what he would do with such information? How would he use it against her? Narcissa's heart pounded, and she walked to their shared table with a great deal of fear, none of which showed on her face.

"Morn," Iain greeted, glancing up at Narcissa and then picking up his Potions book, which he flipped through quite casually.

Narcissa peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to be acting normal, as if last night had never happened. She narrowed her eyes. What was his game?

Ahead of them, Goyle – who had somehow managed to cheat his way into Advanced Potions – was looking over an assignment Slughorn had just handed back. "Damn it," he groaned, stupid-looking face grimacing. "I got a twenty percent!"

Iain glanced up from his book and raised both brows. "Twenty percent?" Narcissa heard him mutter. "They give you thirty percent just for puttin' your name on there, you div."

An amused snicker escaped Narcissa before she could stop it, and Iain glanced up. She quickly cleared her throat to hide it, but for whatever reason, she still found the urge to laugh.

"I thought Hufflepuffs were nice," she murmured, so only Iain could hear.

He looked up at her and smirked. "Must've missed that part of the Sorting Hat's song."

Slughorn began the class, and Iain turned to Narcissa, holding up a small vial. "So," he said, a slow grin forming, "I have an idea." He waited eagerly for Narcissa's response.

To what must have been his great surprise, Narcissa folded her arms, cocked her head in the direction of the cauldron and said, "Well? Let's hear it then."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Hey guys! Thanks for the wait. Writing three stories while working full-time and trying to have some semblance of a life is very difficult, but you guys are very patient. Thank you!

A lot of people are curious as to how Narcissa ends up with Lucius, considering this story is canon to  _The Sacred Twenty-_ Eight (and most of the HP series). Well, I guess you'll just have to wait and see!

* * *

For the next week or so, Narcissa continued to silently evaluate Iain, mostly so she could determine whether or not he planned to use her mental breakdown against her. By Narcissa's estimation, that was what any rational person would have done. However, Iain never brought up the night in the courtyard, nor did he alter his behavior towards her in the slightest.

Instead, he remained the ridiculous wizard that he was, often testing new ideas with their potion and then suffering the consequences, all the while making jokes even when Narcissa refused to laugh. Nothing seemed to temper his good humor – or at least, nothing since Narcissa's remark on his Muggle upbringing. So long as they steered clear of that topic, there seemed to be little discord between them. At first, this originally meant that they simply worked companionably side by side, sometimes interacting with one another very little.

But gradually, their interactions grew more frequent, and Iain's constant jokes (which were fortunately blended with a decent aptitude for their work) sometimes needled their way into the tight muscles of Narcissa's mouth, so that she smiled in her own hidden way, even thinking back on them later and giggling in privacy.

Fortunately, the two Slytherin girls who'd been behind them moved to the opposite end of the room so they could more effectively cheat off a pair of Ravenclaws, and so Narcissa felt the pressure of their presence lessen considerably. Now that Sybil and Elizabeth were out of hearing distance, both Iain and Narcissa were more at ease.

Which meant that, more often than not, they were free to argue and insult each other as they pleased, which turned out to be the most entertaining part of Narcissa's often bleak days.

"You are a fool," said Narcissa to Iain one October day, "if you really think that's going to work."

" _You are a fool_ ," mimicked Iain perfectly in Narcissa's accent, " _if you really think that's going to work_."

"How dare you mock me?" asked Narcissa incredulously. "You are such a child!"

Iain stuck his tongue out at Narcissa and then dropped the ingredient into the potion they were working on. It sizzled, and the potion turned the desired color. He smirked, extending a hand, and Narcissa pursed her lips as tight as they would go to so he wouldn't see her smile. Apparently, he sensed it, though, because he grinned.

"Look again," said Narcissa smugly.

Iain looked back at the potion just in time to see it start to bubble and froth. Letting out a swear that made Narcissa flush red and choke back a laugh, Iain furiously worked over the flame to turn it out, but the potion bubbled over and melted his stirring spoon anyway.

"Mister Stewart," called Slughorn from across the room, "everything alright over there?"

"Y – yes, Professor!"

Iain quickly salvaged the rest of their potion, even as Narcissa reached in her purse and pulled out a loose sickle that had been hanging in her robes, which she dropped into his hand. "For your stirring spoon," she said sweetly, smirking at Iain's glare.

* * *

As entertaining as their time together often was, Narcissa still thought Iain was very strange. In fact, sometimes his actions were positively counter-intuitive to everything Narcissa knew to be true. One example of this being the last Monday in October, when Gregory Goyle nearly killed everyone in the Potions classroom.

Iain was standing next to Narcissa, measuring out chopped newt eyeballs, when he happened to glance up at Goyle and his partner, who were directly in front of them. He nudged Narcissa's arm and nodded in the pair's direction.

"Surely he's not about to put wormwood in that, is he?" muttered Iain, as Narcissa peered in that direction. Her brows furrowed.

"I certainly hope not," she whispered back, but just as she said this, Goyle scratched his head and then dumped the entire bowl of chopped wormwood into the potion.

The resulting explosion rocked the Potions classroom, and Narcissa's first thought was to scream and duck, throwing her arms over her head as a black wave of smoke billowed through the room like a poisonous fog, coating the entire classroom in a thick, grimy dust.

For a moment, Narcissa wasn't sure what happened. Then, as her eyes shifted up and she lowered her arms, she realized that Iain was standing very near her, his arms completely encircling her and his hand poised up, with a magical shield covering them both from the tip of his wand.

Narcissa did not have very good reflexes; she had not even grabbed her wand.

As she and Iain both straightened, the shield fell away and Narcissa realized their small spot was the only clean and undamaged space in the whole room. Everything and everyone else was covered in sticky ash, and only the whites of peoples' eyes differentiated them from the furniture or the walls.

"What on earth did you do, my boy?" exclaimed Slughorn, as many people began coughing. Very suddenly, Elizabeth vomited violently, and the two Ravenclaw girls did the same. Many others heaved and fell over, and Slughorn let out a yell, waving his wand.

"Oh, Merlin," said Narcissa, covering her mouth with her hand. For a moment, all she could think about was how Iain had bothered to shield her, even though she had done nothing but think of herself, as nearly every other person in the classroom had. Never in a million years would it have occurred to her to include him in a shield, if she'd even had the foresight to make one.

Slughorn looked close to vomiting himself. "Alright, everyone – to the Medical Wing immediately! Go – if you can – oh, Merlin – "That was when Slughorn spotted Narcissa and Iain, the only two in the class who were unharmed. "Oh! Mister Stewart, Miss Black – "

"We'll get Madam Blackwell," Ian promised, even as he grimaced at the sight of the others. "Come on, Narcissa."

She made a face. "There's vomit and dust everywhere!" She pointed to her shoes, which were still in the small circle of clean floor.

Iain gave her a Look. "Seriously, Narcissa?"

"Oh, fine," she huffed, before following Iain out of the room to get to the nurse, although she tiptoed the entire time. However, she did pause long enough to shoot a smug at the still retching Sybil and Elizabeth.

 _Serves them right_ , she thought.

* * *

Following the incident, Potions class was cancelled for a few days while the room was cleaned and the students healed, although no one died, to Narcissa's disappoint. There were a few students in there she'd be glad to get rid of, but at least she was free from them for a few days.

However, Narcissa quickly made sure to tell Iain that this did not give them any right to slack off, and so they began meeting in the library nearly every day, diving into research and relaxing in one of the back study rooms, where Narcissa was sure they wouldn't be seen.

Sure, they were partners, but this kind of intensive research was not completely necessary, and for Narcissa to admit that she was choosing to spend her evenings this way was simply not something she could bear.

Still, with no news from home and fewer and fewer letters from Andromeda, Narcissa found that burying herself in schoolwork and having Iain make his silly jokes all the while was by far a better way to waste time than hanging around the Slytherin Common Room. Even when her friends were healed from Goyle's catastrophe and most had forgotten (or at least stopped commenting on) her father's scandals, Narcissa found she much preferred being in a situation where she wasn't forced to monitor every word, every aspect of her appearance, every interaction.

And because Iain was essentially nobody to anyone, Narcissa need not fear him. So she didn't.

"Your hands," said Narcissa one stormy evening, close to Halloween, "are truly terrible." She chewed on the end of her Sugar Quill and her eyes twinkled. "Your skin looks like it was made from the roughest part of a dragon's arse." At Iain's genuine laughter, Narcissa grinned a tiny bit. Never with her friends or family would she dare speak so crassly, but here, it hardly mattered.

"Is that so?" asked Iain with a deep smirk of his own. "Because as it so happens, your  _face_  looks like a troll's arse."

Narcissa gasped, her blue eyes wide. "You jerk!"

Iain burst out laughing, shifting aside to avoid Narcissa's slap on his shoulder. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" he exclaimed, before sucking in a deep breath and looking back at his book with a shake of his head. "Come now, Narcissa, you're beautiful and you know it."

He said this quite casually, with the same certainty that someone might say the ground is down and the sky is up.

Narcissa pursed her lips, but the compliment immediately soothed her, even as the urge to giggle again nearly overwhelmed her. Instead, she rolled her eyes at him and dipped her quill in ink just so she could scribble on his parchment. "Hey!" he exclaimed, before one of the Ravenclaw prefects nearby peeked around his head and shushed them.

They both cleared their throats and quieted, though Iain began chuckling again and Narcissa followed suit. Finally, they sucked down enough breaths to lower their volume again, and they attempted to resume their work.

"You have something on your face," pointed out Narcissa.

Iain glanced up and looked to the side, as if he could see what she was talking about. With an aggrieved sigh, Narcissa pulled out her compact mirror and showed him – it was a streak of yellow and black near his chin.

"Oh," said Iain, rubbing at his face with the shoulder of his robes. "Thas' paint. Hufflepuff had their first match of the season today."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Quidditch, I'm assuming?" Narcissa thought Quidditch was stupid and boring. She only attended the matches if there was a player she was interested in watching. She didn't even care if Slytherin won.

"Of course," said Iain. "I love it, it's my favorite part of the wizarding world, Quidditch."

"Then why don't you play?" asked Narcissa. "Are you not coordinated or something? Did you try out and fail?"

Iain cleared his throat a little. "Nah, I never tried out. No reason to play when I can just enjoy it from the seats," he said with a little shrug. Narcissa's eyes sharpened on him, and she put her chin in her hand as she looked over him. She could sense his unease, and it was deliciously interesting. These were the very types of situations Narcissa lived for.

"Is that so," she said, eyes locked him. "Do you play Muggle sports?"

"Aye, I do," he admitted, looking up dubiously at her watchful stare. "Football, mostly."

"What is football?"

He shifted and tapped his quill on the table. "Only the most popular sport in all of the Muggle world, basically. Thers'a ball and two teams, and you can only kick the ball with your feet, or hit it with your head or chest. No hands. And you have to get it into the other net past a goalkeeper." He paused. "So, itsa' lot like Quidditch, only on the ground."

Narcissa's paused thoughtfully before her lips quirked. "And you play that, but you don't play Quidditch?"

Iain hesitated. "Aye," he said again.

"So then," said Narcissa, tilting her head, "I assume you don't play Quidditch because… " Iain's face turned a few shades paler as she went on " … you are afraid of flying." At Iain's instant look of dismay, Narcissa beamed.

"Hah! I'm right, aren't I?"

Iain made a face and turned back to his book, but of course, Narcissa could hardly contain her delight at having figured out his secret. She scooted her chair closer, even as Iain continued to ignore her in favor of his book. "Why on earth would you be afraid of flying?" she asked insistently, and Iain looked up and sighed, seeing that she wasn't going to drop the subject.

"It's not just flying," he admitted in a low whisper, his cheeks rosy. "I don't like heights at all."

"Really?" asked Narcissa, surprised.

"S'that so strange?" asked Iain, scratching the back of his neck. "Who likes falling and dying?" When Narcissa seemed to find this odd, he continued, "Muggle medicine isn't the same as magical healing. If someone falls from a hundred meters and hits the ground, they're almost certainly dead. So, yeah, I've spent most of my life under the assumption tha' if you fall from too high, you're not goin' ta' make it."

"So," said Narcissa, tapping her chin, "you're saying magical healing is superior to Muggle medicine?"

Iain rolled his eyes. "Of course thas' what you would get out of it," he said, shaking his head. "Look, it's not tha' big of a deal. I jus' don't like heights."

"Wait," said Narcissa suddenly, "are you the Hufflepuff boy who had the hysterical fit during the flying lesson in first year?"

Iain's eyes widened, and this time, the flush jumped all the way down his neck. Narcissa gasped. "Oh, I heard all about that!" she whispered excitedly. "Everyone was saying you barely got off the ground before you panicked, fell off your broom and then ran away!"

Iain slapped a hand over his face. "Dear god," he muttered. "That was six years ago!"

Narcissa tried to stifle her giggling through her hand, but it was hard work. Even though she wasn't at all fond of flying, she at least knew how. "I'm sorry, I just – well, it's a bit funny."

"Look, I'll never be a flier, right? S'that such a big deal?" he asked, making a face at his book. Finally, Narcissa managed to stop giggling.

"Alright, I'll stop teasing you."

"I bet," he muttered darkly. "You damn Slytherins and your blackmail." Narcissa simply smirked in reply, entirely satisfied with this new information. She allowed them to return to work, and even though Iain's embarrassment took a few minutes to fade, they managed to finish up soon after and then prepare to leave the library. As they did so, Narcissa glanced across the library and her heart fluttered.

Iain followed her gaze and snorted. "Please, tell me you are not ogling Lucius Malfoy right now."

"Why shouldn't I?" asked Narcissa, leaning on the table as if weak. She put her hand over her heart. "He's only the handsomest wizard who ever lived.  _And_  he's my future husband."

Iain raised a brow and smirked. "Does he know that?"

"Not yet," said Narcissa, folding her books against her chest. "But he will someday. You'll see."

"Is that so?" asked Iain, leaning against the table next to her. "What does Corinne Lestrange have to say about that, I wonder?"

Narcissa made a face. "She is an impediment, I admit, but honestly, I would be doing Lucius Malfoy a great favor if I managed to break them up. Whatever you may think of me, you have to admit, I'm a better person than Corinne Lestrange!"

Iain made a noise of agreement before muttering wryly, "A  _dementor_  is a better person than Corinne Lestrange."

Narcissa let out a surprised giggle. "Yes, that's true," she agreed as they prepared to leave. They paused, though, when two little boys rushed by, creating a ruckus and knocking over books. Narcissa and Iain both waited to peek around the corner of a bookshelf, just so they could watch the two boys rush straight into Lucius Malfoy, who grunted and then snatched their collars.

"Watch where you're going, you little ogres," snapped Lucius, releasing their collars. "Or else you'll regret it."

"I'm not scared of you, Malfoy," said the curly-haired boy, and Narcissa scowled when she realized it was her cousin Sirius. "And neither is James, are we, James?"

"Course not," said the other little boy smugly. "What're you going to do to us, Malfoy? Braid our hair?"

"Choke us with your hair ribbons?" added Sirius, before turning to James and pretending to flip his hair. "Oh look at me, I'm Malfoy, watch how my pretty locks blow in the wind!"

"I'm Head Boy," mimicked James immediately, "But I should really be Head Girl! La dee da!"

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" hissed Lucius, eyes blazing.

Sirius made a sputtering noise with his mouth. "Who cares," he said, but just then, a Gryffindor prefect showed up behind them and pulled them away from Malfoy.

"I care, now shut it," said the prefect, before he looked up at Lucius and said grudgingly, "Sorry about that. I'll take them back to the tower."

"You'd better," said Lucius, setting his eyes on the prefect, "before they bring even more shame to the Gryffindor house than your dirty, blood traitor family has… Weasley."

For a moment, the prefect's face contorted with fury. Then he spat out – "You know what, on second thought, go and choke on your girlfriend's knob, Malfoy." Both James and Sirius burst into wild laughter, even as the prefect dragged them both away.

"FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!" shouted Lucius furiously at their backs.

As the Gryffindor prefect passed by Narcissa and Iain's spot, he was heard muttering to himself regretfully, "Damn it, Arthur…"

Meanwhile, Iain was on the ground next to Narcissa with laughter, nearly unable to breathe, even in the face of Narcissa's mortification. "That was so – argh, the audacity of that Weasley – Iain, get up!" shrieked Narcissa.

"I can't," wheezed the Hufflepuff from the ground. "I've got to – I've got to buy Weasley a butterbeer or something – "

"I'm leaving without you," she told him, stepping over his convulsing form and marching to the door. Iain managed to pull himself up and trot out of the library after her, still laughing all the while.

"Oh, come on, that was funny," he said, still snickering. "Just because you've got eyes for Malfoy doesn't mean he's not a complete prat."

Narcissa rolled her eyes, before pointing a finger at Iain as they walked the corridors. "You just wait and see. Lucius Malfoy will inherit the greatest fortune in all of Great Britain, and when I become his wife, he and I will be the most important couple in all the wizarding world." She breathed in deeply and waved her arms outward in a grandiose gesture. "It will be… marvelous."

"Mmhm," said Iain, unconvinced.

After a few more minutes, Narcissa looked over at Iain. "So what witch do you fancy?"

"Oh, no," said Iain. "I've given you enough blackmail, you snake."

Narcissa's lips quirked. "Oh, so you're smarter than you look, are you?" At Iain's pinched face, she went on, "Just tell me. Surely you fancy someone. Maybe I can help."

"How would you help?" asked Iain blandly. "And I can get dates on my own, thanks."

"I am an expert on all things romance," Narcissa informed him primly. "I pay very special attention to people; it's one of my gifts. Come on, then. Tell me." When Iain still seemed reluctant, she added a bit more quietly, "it'll give me something fun to think about."

Iain glanced over at her, and for a moment, nothing was said. Finally, he shifted a little in her direction and admitted in a murmur, "Abigail Clearwater."

Narcissa's eyes lit up. "Oh, the Ravenclaw? That's not a bad choice at all, she's quite lovely. And not nearly so smug as some Ravenclaws. You know how they can be."

"Right," said Iain dryly, "because you're not smug at all."

Narcissa didn't seem to hear him. Instead, she looked thoughtful. "So do you talk to her? Do you plan on asking her out?"

"I don't know," admitted Iain. "We sit next to each other in Herbology, and we talk quite a bit in class. But I've never approached her outside of there. Just – don't know what to say, I guess."

Narcissa thought about this. "Does she ever touch you, in class?"

"Touch me?" asked Iain dubiously.

"Yes," said Narcissa impatiently. "You know, brush your hand, touch your arm, like this – " She lightly gripped his bicep through his robes. " – such as when she's leaning over or sitting down?"

Iain glanced at Narcissa's hand and then seemed to consider her question. "I think so, yeah. Just yesterday."

"Oh, that's good," said Narcissa with a knowing nod. "That's a very good sign. You should definitely ask her out." When Iain still seemed skeptical, Narcissa raised a finger. "Or, if you're still not certain, you could test the waters a bit – by getting her a gift."

"A gift?" repeated Iain. "That wouldn't be weird?"

"Just something small," advised Narcissa. "Let's see – she's a Ravenclaw, so surely she has lots of books, right? You should get a beautiful bookmark. She's sure to love that. And don't make a big deal of it – just give it to her in class, very casual, and tell her that it reminded you of her when you saw it." Narcissa lifted her chin knowingly. "That way, you can let her know you were thinking of her, without it being too strange. If she accepts the present and seems happy about it, you can feel sure about asking her out. If she thinks it's odd or acts strangely after, you probably shouldn't."

"That… might work," he conceded, looking thoughtful. "But where would I even get a bookmark like that?"

"There's a charming little shop in Hogsmeade," said Narcissa. "There at the end of the road, near The Three Broomsticks. Go and pick something nice, something with a tassel, maybe in Ravenclaw colors. Make sure it's special enough to be worthy of her; after all, you don't want to give her something bland and then remark that it made you think of her. That would be insulting."

"This is actually starting to sound quite difficult," said Iain with wide eyes.

"Just show it to me before you give it to her," said Narcissa as they came to the corridor where they must part ways. "I'll be able to tell you if it's a worthwhile gift."

"Fine," he said, amused. "But I don't think this is going to work."

"You don't know the mind of a woman," Narcissa informed him. "You barely even know the mind at all."

"Charming, as always," said Iain with a grin, before tipped his head to her. "Good night, Narcissa."

Both smirking, they turned in opposite directions and went to their respective Common Rooms.

* * *

Pleased with her thoughts, Narcissa returned to the Slytherin dungeons and made her way to the room she shared with the other girls in her year. Talking with Iain about his upcoming shopping trip made Narcissa excited for Hogsmeade as well. While the other girls were crowded around a mirror practicing glamour charms, Narcissa pulled out her trunk and opened it, fishing around for her enchanted purse at the bottom.

When she found it, she pulled it out and mentally calculated on how much gold she should remove for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. However, when she pulled out the purse and reached inside, she felt only a few coins. Confused, Narcissa overturned the bag on her bed.

To her shock, only ten galleons and an assortment of Knuts and Sickles fell out.

Narcissa's insides froze. Her father hadn't replenished her gold supply for the year.

All she had was the leftover from last year, and that was barely enough for a meal and a few treats. Panic began to seize Narcissa, and she hurriedly began looking through the rest of her things, sure there was more gold to be found. Unfortunately, she found none, and she was forced to put the bag back and push her trunk back under the bed before her friends noticed her panic. Sitting back on her bed with her lips parted, Narcissa barely repressed a sob.

Her father had completely forgotten to send any gold with her. His own daughter, all term at Hogwarts, with only a handful of galleons to her name. How could he let something slip his mind so easily?

Or, thought Narcissa with growing dread, what if he hadn't forgotten at all, but instead simply thought it wasn't worth it to send a pile of gold with Narcissa as he usually did? Could he really care for her that little? Tears welled in Narcissa's eyes, and she jumped up from her bed, leaving the Slytherin dungeons and hurrying to Slughorn's office.

Fortunately, the aged professor was there at his desk. Narcissa knocked and entered, and when she stood in front of SLughorn, she fought to keep her face calm and free of distress. "Sir," she said, "has my father sent any gold to the school for me? I think he might've forgotten at the start of the term."

Slughorn frowned sympathetically. "No, I'm afraid not, Miss Black. Not so far as I know, anyway."

"Oh," said Narcissa in a small voice.

"I can always check again," said Slughorn eagerly. "I'll – I'll go check right now – "

"No, it's alright," said Narcissa stiffly. "I'm sure he'll send it soon."

"Do you need gold from the student fund?" asked Slughorn, brows furrowed with concern. "I can speak to Professor Dumbledore – "

"No," answered Narcissa more harshly than she intended. Her wounded pride put a hard edge on her words. "Thank you, Professor." Then she left, carrying her heavy despair with her.

No way would Narcissa accept a handout from the school. She would starve and die before she accepted some second-hand gold from the poor person fund. Besides, it wasn't as if not having gold at Hogwarts meant she was without food or shelter. The term was paid for. Wasn't it? Narcissa closed her eyes tightly and prayed to whatever might listen to her that she received no further humiliation at the hands of her father.

However, a secret part of her knew that such a wish would not be granted.

* * *

When the day came for the Hogsmeade trip, Narcissa feigned sick. She could not go to Hogsmeade with only ten Galleons, as all of her friends would expect shopping, eating, and all the like. Anything worthwhile cost gold, and Narcissa simply did not have enough.

Instead, Narcissa stayed behind in the nearly silent dormitory, writing three letters back to back. The first was to her father, alerting him to her situation and letting him know that she understood he was greatly busy, but surely he could take the time to send her some gold, couldn't he?

The second was to Bellatrix, begging her to mend things with Father and make all their lives easier.

The last was to Andromeda, and in it, Narcissa shamelessly pleaded for her sister's help.  _I'm not sure what's happened,_ wrote Narcissa, tears in her eyes,  _but I'm beginning to think Father has forsaken me entirely. If you can spare some gold, will you send it to me? I don't know what else to do._

When she was done, Narcissa took all three letters to the owlery and sent them off. Then she went back to the dormitory and spent the better part of the afternoon stifling her tears and feeling very, very alone.

* * *

The very next day, a Sunday, Narcissa went to the library to return a book. Her walk was slow and uninterested, and her head felt full of the type of fog that came from sleep that was too heavy with tears and misery. As she left the library, she nearly ran into Iain.

"Oh, Narcissa!" he said excitedly. "I bought a bookmark, come take a – " he stopped, though, at the sight of her face, and his features instantly fell into one of concern. "What's wrong?"

Narcissa turned her head away. "Nothing. What bookmark did you get?"

"Doesn't really matter," he said, not buying her words for a moment. "What's happened? Are you alright?"

Narcissa remained stubbornly silent, but a part of her screamed out to be heard. As if sensing this, Iain jerked his head over his shoulder and the two took a seldom-used corridor out to the grounds, where they walked without talking until they reached the desolate courtyard from before. As soon as they were alone, Iain pulled off his cloak, laid it on the ground and sat down on it, gesturing for Narcissa to do the same.

She kneeled gracefully, even as her own porcelain features remain stiff and distant.

"Whas' happened?" asked Iain after a few moments.

Narcissa swallowed tightly. "My father forgot to send gold with me to school," she answered after a long time, her eyes on the ground. "None. Not a single Sickle." Biting her lip, Narcissa breathed in a little, the sound sharp and high. "I know you'll think that's silly, but I – I can't be around my friends if I haven't any gold, Iain. And my father – he normally sends a great deal, it's – it's very important – but now he's just – " Anger and hurt pushed tears closer to the surface. "Now he's just forgotten me."

Iain frowned deeply. "I'm sure he didn't mean to," he comforted. "My pa gets distracted sometimes. Sent me to school without a packed lunch for an entire week once when I was small. I had to trip a kid just to get a sandwich." He tried for a smile, but it didn't work, so instead, he inched closer and touched her arm lightly. "Just write to him."

"I did," said Narcissa, sniffling. "But he never responds to my letters. Never."

"Really?" questioned Iain, brows furrowed.

Narcissa shook her head and sucked in a sob. "I can barely get him to talk to me when I'm home, much less when I'm away at school," she admitted in a tiny voice. "Ever since my mother – " She stopped there and closed her eyes.

Iain paused before squeezing her shoulder a bit. "You can have some of my gold," he offered. "S'not as much as your father would've sent, I'm sure, but …"

"No, it's – Andromeda will send me some," said Narcissa, swallowing tightly. "I'm sure she will. She always has the answer."

Iain nodded and sat in silence with Narcissa for a few minutes. "Would your friends really give you that hard of a time?" he asked curiously. "Just because your father forgot to send your gold with you?"

Narcissa scowled softly. "Don't be so naïve. Of course they would. They live for moments like these." She wiped at her tears and relaxed some on the cloak, unfolding her legs. "Everything is a competition. Everything. And so whenever one of us stumbles…"

"That doesn't sound like friendship," observed Iain. Narcissa could only shrug. She had no other definition to offer.

"I don't know what else it's supposed to be," she admitted dully, eyes on the fabric of his cloak underneath them. At this, Iain's lips quirked at a smile, and he reached in his pocket to pull something out.

"Maybe like this," he said, before showing Narcissa a lovely green embossed bookmark with a gold tassel and an 'N' written in elegant script on the front. "I got one for Abigail, of course, but I saw this one and… I just wanted to thank you for the idea."

He offered it to her.

Narcissa stared.  _Maybe like this_ , he had said. Friendship.

After several seconds of silence, Narcissa reached forward and accepted the bookmark, folding it into her hands. She could not remember the last time she had received a gift that was not from her sisters. Every gift she had claimed was from her father had in fact been from Andromeda. She truly did not believe her father even knew how old she was, given how little he paid attention.

"Thank you," murmured Narcissa, eyes on the bookmark. "I like it."

"Good," said Iain, "because that was really expensive for a damn bookmark." He held up another, this one deep blue with black etchings and a portrait silhouette in the center. It, too, was embossed and very pretty. "Now, how should I give this to Abigail? Should I wrap it, or just hand it to her?"

Tucking her own gift carefully into her robes, Narcissa cleared away the last of her tears and took the bookmark. "Oh, no," she said primly, "wrapping would be too formal, and it would give you away. But if you left it without anything, that would be too casual." She reached around her neck and pulled off a short silky scarf in a nice print. Then she wrapped it carefully around the bookmark and tied it with a ribbon.

"There," she said, handing it back to Iain, who smiled. "Now she has a bookmark and a scarf."

"Are you sure?" he asked, surprised. "You don't have to give that, too."

"It's alright," said Narcissa with a small smile. "It doesn't mean anything to me."

Iain smiled gratefully and tucked away the gift. After, he turned his face up towards the sky. "It might snow soon," he said. "Best to enjoy the weather while we can." With that said, he turned on the cloak and laid down on his back, arms behind his head and his limbs stretched. Narcissa looked down at him, and then glanced over the desolate courtyard. There seemed to be no one for quite a distance; the castle was on the other side of the lake, and most of the other students were very far away.

So, Narcissa shifted and reclined on her back next to Iain, her hands folded demurely on her stomach and her face turned up at the sky.

* * *

Author's Note: I am sure this is full of typos, but I will have to go back and edit it later, because my brain cannot handle it right now.

Also, I figured out after this chapter that Arthur Weasley is actually a few years older than Lucius. I couldn't take out that scene, though. It filled me with too much joy.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! I don't know how many of you are actually following this story, but it is (or will be) an excellent insight into The Sacred 28, so I hope you're still reading!

Enjoy.

* * *

_Over the next two weeks, Iain and I began spending more and more time with one another. We told no one, of course, and I went to great lengths to make certain my friends had no idea. Given how easily they ignored me after my father's indiscretions were made public, it wasn't all that hard._

_And I was surprised to find that I did not miss them at all. I had many memories with these girls, and some of them were quite fun and pleasant. Yet, I still did not grieve their absence. They were a superficial presence in my life, like a nice set of robes that I had cherished once, but ultimately outgrown and discarded._

_Iain encouraged me not to dismiss them entirely, which I thought was odd at the time. However, as I came to know him, I understood more; he was, in essence, the type of person who lived on the joy of others like most lived on air. He did not want to be my only friend, even though I found more and more often that his company was the only one I desired._

_Either way, I kept to my Slytherins during the day, save for Potions class. Sometimes, in the evenings, I stayed in the Slytherin Common Room as well._

_But whenever I could slip away, I would do so, and Iain would always meet me – in the courtyard, or the library, or near the kitchens in a little alcove that was well-hidden from view. We would talk and share everything from snacks to silly, meaningless secrets._

_Despite my desperate situation – the silence from my family or my impoverished status at Hogwarts – I felt strangely happy. I had never been a loquacious person, but with Iain, I talked and talked and talked, and when he responded – always in earnest, always eager to hear my words – I listed with more intensity than I could ever recall in my life. I wanted to know what he had to say._

_They were the only words that mattered to me, at the time._

* * *

"What do you want to do after Hogwarts?"

Iain tilted his head to look over at Narcissa, his lips quirked in his little secret smile. "You first."

Narcissa rolled her eyes, smiling. "You know what I want," she told him. "To be the illustrious mistress of the greatest household in Great Britain, of course!" She waved her hand. "I want to throw parties and dance and – " she paused to think " – not just follow the latest trends, but set them. I want people to see me and have their breath taken away by how regal I am."

Iain chuckled. "Regal," he repeated with a nod. "Apt choice of words."

Narcissa shrugged with a coy smirk. "So tell me," she commanded. Iain shifted his gaze away from her and looked out over the lake. They were in the courtyard once more, the one most isolated from the grounds. The walls were choked with shrubbery and vines, as even the groundskeeper rarely ventured this way. At first, Narcissa had thought it wild and unkempt looking. Now, oddly enough, she appreciated its feral beauty.

Iain's eyes, though, were on the deep black water of the lake, only part of which was visible from their spot. At her question, he dropped his eyes as if a bit embarrassed, cheeks lifted in a bashful smile. Intrigued, Narcissa scooted closer and poked his arm. "Tell me, tell me!" She kept poking him, and Iain swatted her away. They both laughed.

"Alright, fine," he said, before taking a deep breath. "I want… to be a boat builder."

Narcissa stared, before covering her mouth to laugh again. "A boat builder?"

"Don't laugh!"

"Oh, I'm not – that's so strange!"

"Not at all," said Iain, now excited. He shifted to face her, gesturing grandly with his arms. "When I was a wee boy, we lived on this little pond. It was tiny, with only a few fish, but I loved it more than anything. And every day, when I got home from school, I would work on this raft I was trying desperately to build." He showed her the size of it with his hands. "It was made of junk and plastic and all sorts of things, but by god, I was going to make it float across the pond with me on it. So for months, I did my best, and at last, I felt it was ready. So I pushed it off the shore and jumped on."

Narcissa raised a brow, her red lips quirked. "And?"

Iain smacked his hands together. "Fell straight through, nearly drowned."

The two lapsed into breathless laughter again, and Iain reclined. "But from that day on, I knew that one day, I was going to build a boat that would float. And then as I grew, my plans got bigger and bigger. Now I want to create all kinds of boats and ships and whatever else can glide on the seas."

"I'm pretty sure there are people who know how to make working boats," Narcissa pointed out. "You should just do what they do."

"It's more than that, though," said Iain excitedly. "There's this – fantastic craftsmanship to it. A boat is – is everything. It's beauty and it's speed and it's control." He waved his hand out, as if covering the expanse of water near them. "Out on the water, you're really part of an entirely different world. I want to make boats because I want to help people connect with it."

Narcissa leaned her head against the wall, her eyes scanning his longing features. "That sounds nice."

"I think so, too," he agreed softly, curling close to her to avoid the cold. They stayed that way for a while, until they were forced to retreat indoors, where they parted ways one more.

* * *

The very next day, in the middle of November, Narcissa received quite a shock.

She was sitting in the Slytherin Common Room, trying desperately to make sense of her Charms homework, when the portrait door opened and the room suddenly grew very quiet. Narcissa only vaguely registered the sudden shift in mood, focused as she was on her homework. However, one of the other girls tapped her shoulder, and she looked up to see what had captivated everyone's attention. Or, more accurately, what had terrified them into a stupor.

Standing at the front of the Common Room entrance was Bellatrix Black.

While all others stared, Narcissa let out a gasp and leaped to her feet. "Bella!" Tossing aside her homework, she hurried to her sister, who accepted her hug and pet her head.

"Cissy," she cooed, heavy-lidded eyes scanning Narcissa's face with a critical appraisal. However, even as she looked over Narcissa, her eyes shifted and scanned the room, darkly amused. Narcissa pulled back, and Bellatrix lifted her strong jaw. The tense nature of the room did not ease.

"What are you doing here?" asked Narcissa curiously.

"I'm here for a visit with my dear sister, of course," said Bellatrix. Some activity resumed in the common room, but it was plainly a minimal attempt to appear as though everyone was not listening to them. "And to deliver you a gift."

Narcissa felt a heavy bag land in her hands, and when she peered into it, her heart leaped into her throat. It was full to the brim of galleons. "Oh, Bella! Thank you!" she said, trying not to look as shocked as she felt. There must have been five hundred galleons in the purse, an enormous amount. Her father usually only sent three hundred, sometimes less. Gratitude towards her sister filled Narcissa's heart.

However, before she could question Bellatrix further, Narcissa turned to see that her sister was no longer looking at her, but instead at a beautiful dark-skinned witch who had stood and crossed the room.

"What," hissed Corinne Lestrange to Bellatrix, "is around your neck?"

Narcissa's eyes widened, her eyes flickering to the collar of Bellatrix's robes, which gaped open and revealed a striking amulet. Bellatrix's amusement grew, even as nearly everyone else in the room edged away from the three witches.

"Oh," said Bellatrix, lightly touching the necklace. "This old thing?"

"That is a family heirloom, you treacherous thief!"

"I am no thief, Corinne," countered Bellatrix casually. Her dark lips quirked. "And if you must know, this was a gift… " Her eyes lifted directly to Corinne's as she leaned close " … from your brother, Rodolphus."

Narcissa's lips parted in surprise, as did many others in the common room.

"No," growled Corinne. "You would not dare court my brother. And he would not have you!"

"I am afraid you're very wrong, little girl," said Bellatrix. "In fact, it seems you are remiss about a great many things. Your brother, on the other hand, seems quite wise. He knows a worthwhile witch when he sees one, and he treats her very… very well." Her eyes twinkled with malicious delight at Corinne's fury. "He's even quite the generous suitor, giving me so many fine gifts." Bellatrix grinned suddenly. "And the knowledge that he's bleeding your inheritance dry to do so just makes things so much sweeter."

Narcissa took a step back. She had never seen Corinne so furious, and the older witch was formidable enough when she was pleased. However, Bellatrix drank in Corinne's rage like a glass of refreshing water, and she appeared sated and pleased. "Come, Cissy," said Bellatrix, turning her shoulder to Corinne, who had been rendered speechless for the first time Narcissa could remember. "We should take a walk on the grounds before I have to leave."

Terrified, Narcissa tucked the gold into her arms and hurried out after Bellatrix.

* * *

Together, Narcissa and Bellatrix left the castle and wandered the grounds. As soon as they were alone, Narcissa shoved away the gold and looked at her sister, her eyes wide. "Bella, what's been going on? Where on earth have you been? Did Father give you this gold?" she asked quickly, and Bellatrix's expression shifted to annoyance.

"Stop asking so many questions," Bellatrix admonished. "And of course not. That lecherous bastard has lost nearly all of our worth. There isn't five hundred galleons to be found between him  _and_  all his whores."

Narcissa frowned, her cheeks going red at hearing Bellatrix talk so openly about their father's behavior. "Everyone at school is teasing me," she admitted to Bellatrix. "They act as if they've forgotten, but then they suddenly remember again, each time something new about him comes out. It's terrible, Bella. I don't know what to do."

Bellatrix sighed, her eyes straight-forward and unsympathetic, despite Narcissa' crestfallen expression.

"There's nothing that can be done for him, Narcissa. The only worthwhile thing that putrid old man has left to give us is his name." She stopped walking and turned to face Narcissa, her intense gaze on the younger witch's face. "Narcissa, listen to me. Our good name – the ancient and noble house of Black – is the only thing we have remaining to us that has any value. Do you understand?"

She wasn't sure she did, but Narcissa nodded anyway.

"We have no inheritances to offer," Bellatrix continued sharply, her features curling in disgust. "We have nothing to give wizards of note except the most important thing in the world – our bloodline. If a wizard has any sense at all, he will value that above gold." She put her hands on Narcissa's upper-arms, and from a distance, it might have looked like a comforting gesture. However, her grip was painfully tight, and when she leaned close, Narcissa wanted to pull away, but couldn't.

"The integrity of our house is of the most importance, Narcissa. Do not ever, ever do anything to endanger that, or you will be  _nothing_  to this world or anyone in it."

Narcissa's eyes lowered. "I wouldn't… be nothing to you and Andromeda, though. Right?"

Bellatrix's expression hardened. "Uphold our ancient house with dignity, and you will never have to find out." She released her, and Narcissa resisted the urge to rub her arms. Bellatrix turned and continued walking, and Narcissa fell into step with her.

"Did you send any gold to Andromeda?" asked Narcissa. "Please tell me you did."

"Of course I did," said Bellatrix. "Rodolphus gave me enough to buy a new house, if I wished it." She rolled her eyes. "He'll do whatever I ask of him. The idiot."

Narcissa's brows furrowed. "Do you not care for him?"

The look on Bellatrix's face made Narcissa feel as though this had been the stupidest question she could ask, so she simply bit her lip and tried to be grateful for Bellatrix's generous gift to her, even though it had made her a target of the most malevolent witch at Hogwarts.

"May I ask," started Narcissa tentatively, "where you've been all this time? You didn't answer me before."

Bellatrix, who continued to walk and only looked at Narcissa for a moment out of the corner of her eyes, finally smirked, the anger fading from her features. Instead, she looked positively wistful. Narcissa's curiosity grew. She had never seen Bellatrix look that way.

"You'll know in time, little sister," said Bellatrix. "I cannot say more, except that I have witnessed true power, true greatness, the likes of which this world has never seen."

"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Narcissa.

Bellatrix stopped again, looking dazzled, her eyes faraway. "Things will be different soon, Cissy. We will have everything we ever desired… "

That was not a real answer to Narcissa's question, but it seemed clear that Bellatrix would not give her a straight-forward response, so Narcissa sighed inwardly and gave up. Together, they started back towards the castle. Some noise nearby attracted their attention, and the two sisters peered to their left to see a group of students kicking around a ball on the grass near the castle. One of them was Iain, and he was laughing as he bounced the strange white ball up on his knee and then kicked it to another Hufflepuff.

"What sort of stupid game is that?" asked Bellatrix with a sneer.

"Oh," said Narcissa, without thinking, "it's called football. It's a game – " she choked on her next words, but at Bellatrix's strange look, she continued, " – it's a game… Muggles play."

"I see," said Bellatrix, her dark eyes shifting back over the players. "Mudbloods… playing their Muggle games… here at Hogwarts." Terror seized Narcissa's heart at her sister's dangerous expression.

"We should go – "

The ball rolled off someone's knee and nearer to the two sisters, though the players did not seem to notice them. Iain began to jog towards the ball, and as he did so, Narcissa spotted her sister taking out her wand. With a subtle flick of her wand in the direction of the ball, Bellatrix lowered it again and hid it in her sleeve with a malicious smirk.

Before Narcissa could think about what was happening, Iain leaned over to pick up the ball – and then yanked his hands away with a shout. Narcissa couldn't see well enough to know what exactly had happened, but judging from the way Iain's face contorted with pain, she could imagine the curse on the ball had been quite nasty. He jogged back to his friends, and Narcissa saw them lead him away, the game forgotten.

"Filthy Mudbloods," muttered Bellatrix. "One day soon... they will all meet their end."

A few minutes later, she bade Narcissa good-bye and left.

* * *

The following day, Narcissa arrived in Potions, excited to tell Iain about her sister's gift of gold. However, upon seeing his hands wrapped in heavy bandaging, she balked. "What happened to your hands?" she asked, because she thought it would be strange not to ask.

Iain looked up and smiled sadly. "I have no idea," he admitted, looking bewildered. "It just… happened. Madam Blackwell did her best, but they're going to take a few days to heal. I won't be much use today. I'm sorry." He looked to Narcissa with genuine sympathy for the fact that she had to deal with his injury.

"Oh," said Narcissa faintly. "It's alright, really."

"You looked excited when you came in here," he observed as they began preparing their work. "What happened?"

Clearing her throat, Narcissa tried to recall her joy at having gold again. "I'm no longer an impoverished peasant," she told him in a gleeful whisper. "My sister came yesterday and gave me an entire bag of gold!"

"That's great!" Iain grinned. "See, it all worked out." He pushed some tools in her direction, which was all he could do with his injured hands. Narcissa tried to keep herself from looking at them, but it was difficult. Guilt ate away her heart, and she tried her best to push it away. He'd be fine in a few days. It was no big deal.

"I know," he said, when he noticed her looking at his hands. "As if they didn't look rough enough as it was."

Narcissa bit her lip and looked down at their book. Then she popped her head back up. "I'm going to get you a gift," she told him. "Now that I have gold again. I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything," he told her, but Narcissa firmly shook her head.

"Slytherins don't like being in debt to others," she told him matter-of-factly. "And besides, it would be fun to pick something for you. You deserve it." Not to mention she felt it would help assuage her terrible feelings about his hurt hands.

"Oh," he said, looking surprised. "Well, okay then."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Stop looking so shocked. I'm allowed to do nice things!"

He paused. "Are you, though?"

She poked his side hard, and he laughed.

"Anyway," said Narcissa, making some notes, "I feel much better knowing I have gold, and Bellatrix said she sent some to Andromeda, too."

"Bellatrix?" repeated Iain, the humor gone from his eyes.

"Yes," said Narcissa, glancing up from her book. "She's my oldest sister. She finished Hogwarts a few years ago."

Iain paused. "I know who she is," he said, before turning back to their ingredients.

Narcissa hesitated, an unspoken question on the tip of her tongue. She waited to see if Iain would say something more, but he didn't, instead growing strangely quiet for the rest of the lesson. Narcissa tried to cheer him, but her attempts were met with half-hearted responses in return. By the end of the lesson, she decided she would have to find him the best gift possible. "Meet me tonight in the courtyard," she told him.

"I can't tonight," he told her regretfully. It wasn't often that he couldn't meet her, and Narcissa made a face, immediately put off.

"And just why not?" she asked primly.

"I have a date with Abigail," he told her. "I'll meet with you tomorrow, though. I promise."

Narcissa very carefully pulled back in a pretty lip that threatened to pout. "I hadn't realized you two were steady now," she said coolly. Iain flushed a little and shrugged.

"I don' know that it's really official."

"Well, she certainly takes up your time like an official girlfriend!" said Narcissa a little louder than she intended, and Iain shushed her, waving his bandaged hands in a placating gesture.

"Narcissa," he said with a quiet chuckle, "if anyone takes up my time, it's you. I see Abigail outside of class twice a week. I see you every single day."

Narcissa scowled in what she hoped as a delicate and feminine manner, turning away with her eyebrows lifted. "Well, then. I hope you have a fun time on your date." She picked up her book and hugged it to her chest. "And good luck groping your girlfriend with your hands looking like a mummy's!"

"Narcissa!" admonished Iain, cheeks growing red again, even as she turned and strutted out of the room.

* * *

Two nights later, as the first night of snow began trickling down on the jagged peaks of Hogwarts, Narcissa met Iain at the courtyard. Someone observing the pair's interactions each day would have likely questioned the sanity of both; in fact, many might not have blamed Iain if he simply stopped talking to Narcissa altogether, given how she sometimes spoke to him.

But – to Narcissa's delight – Iain understood her mannerisms, even though there were times when he probably shouldn't have, and he often had no problem pointing out her negative behavior, which Narcissa did not always appreciate but sometimes had to concede to.

On this day, though, the two peculiar friends met with their regular amount of joy and anticipation, and together they curled into the warmest corner of the courtyard, where the corner of the stone wall met with the sturdy wall of the castle. Narcissa conjured a small flame to keep them warm, and Iain wrapped his own warm cloak around Narcissa's shoulders, to make sure the cold did not bother her.

"Here," said Narcissa gleefully, giving Iain the box. "I spent all day yesterday at Hogsmeade, looking for this."

Iain tucked his shoulder against Narcissa's, a fur hat pulled down on top of his dark auburn hair. Glancing at Narcissa mischievously, he took his time opening it. Narcissa poked him impatiently, and he pulled off the last of the wrapping.

" _Great Magical Boats & Those Who Build Them_," he read aloud, before his eyes widened. He opened the book, flipping through the pages with growing excitement. "I – Narcissa, this is about wizard boat builders!"

Narcissa clapped her gloved hands together happily. "Yes! So you see, you don't have to build boats for muggles. You can be a magical boat builder, and create vessels like these here. Look," she scooted closer and flipped to a page close to the back. "See this? This is the boat used by Durmstrang Institute. It was created by Aleksandr Morikov, the most famous magical boat builder of all time."

"Wow," breathed Iain, entranced. "This is … amazing."

"Do you like it?" asked Narcissa, and she beamed when Iain looked up at her with the grandest smile. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

"I love it," he told her. "I can't wait to read it all."

Pleased and pink-cheeked, Narcissa looked down at the book with Iain and felt true joy. However, it lasted only for a few blissful moments. Then her eyes caught the bandages at his wrists again, visible at the edges of his gloves. This reminded her of Bellatrix.

_The integrity of our house is of the most importance, Narcissa. Do not ever, ever do anything to endanger that, or you will be nothing to this world or anyone in it._

Narcissa felt her heart drop into her stomach, and she suddenly felt like crying. Unable to look at Iain's face, she tucked her head against his shoulder and let him become distracted by the book.

 _Filthy Mudbloods,_ Bellatrix had said.  _One day soon_ …  _they will all meet their end._


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews and follows! This story will eventually move on to and overlap with the events of The Sacred 28, so keep an eye out for clues and hints!

Also, just a note if you're not familiar with my writing; I write chapters like this one a lot. That is to say, this chapter will not really advance the plot. In fact, it really only contains conversations that may seem pointless to some. However, my biggest irritation with stories involving any kind of relationship at all is when the development is … hidden, or non-existent. In real life, people learn to care for each other through everyday situations, and I always make an effort to include those in my work, so that the changes and shifts are visible.

So, does this chapter really tell you a lot about the plot of this story (which actually will matter at some point)? No, not really. But I do think it's important.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

The days grew colder, and Hogwarts sank into its chilly autumn setting. The leaves near the lake changed color and scattered, and students spent as much time as possible outside until the winds chased them back indoors.

That suited Narcissa and Iain just fine, as they liked to enjoy the courtyard without having to bother with others. It wouldn't do to let someone see them. Unfortunately, pearly white flakes of snow came sooner than expected, and Narcissa and Iain were forced to retreat indoors with everyone else.

Luckily, Iain was able to locate a rarely used space in the far western corner of the castle, a spot which had once been a classroom, but had fallen into disuse after a Peeves catastrophe. Now it was used sparsely for storage.

It was in this spot that Narcissa and Iain gathered nearly every day, camped out behind some crates near a frosty window that looked out over the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. On certain days, whenever the pair rushed to their hidden spot from classes and dinner, they could watch the sunset from the other side of the tall peaked glass, all the while basking on the sun-warmed stones just near the window's ledge.

Sometimes they didn't talk very much. Other times, it seemed as if they would never run out of things to say.

Today they weren't talking very much, but instead simply sitting next to one another and using the fading light to complete their respective assignments. They shared a pot of ink between them, and whenever Narcissa grew frustrated or Iain became bored, they would pause from their work and remark on their days.

"How are your hands?" asked Narcissa after she completed a particularly different question on her Charms homework. Iain glanced up from where he was pretending to read his Care of Magical Creatures assignment. She knew he was pretending because he always squinted at his work when he was trying to feign concentration. Whenever he actually concentrated, he looked completely different.

At her question, Iain brought up a hand, which was no longer wrapped up. "Oh, its fine," he said, flexing his fingers. "There's some scars, but thas' nothing new," he admitted. Narcissa quirked her lips at him, but she still felt a twinge of guilt. He'd only gotten those new scars because of Bellatrix.

This thought made Narcissa think of the strange way he'd looked at the mention of her sister's name, when she'd mentioned Belltrix's visit a week ago. "Did you know my sister Bellatrix?" asked Narcissa, eyes on his face. "When she was here at Hogwarts?"

Iain's eyes flickered up to hers, and his easy smile slipped away, even as he turned back to his homework. He shrugged a shoulder. "I know of her." Narcissa watched him for a moment before reaching over and putting a hand over his, so that his sudden need to write all over his parchment was stopped. Iain looked up at her with surprise, and Narcissa pulled her hands away, eyebrows lifted.

Iain caught her meaning, as he often seemed to do. Sighing, he twisted his quill in his fingertips and shifted in Narcissa's direction. "When I was in my second year, I was walking back from the library alone, pretty late. And … " he paused, giving a little humorless laugh that Narcissa did not like, " … Bellatrix and her friends just happened upon me."

Dread pooled in Narcissa's heart. She did not want to know this. But she had to.

"What happened?"

She hated the look that crossed Iain's face – as if he could not stand to look at her in that moment, even though he didn't seem angry or cross with her. Instead, he looked exactly like Narcissa felt when she thought of her mother.

Iain met Narcissa's eyes for a moment, and she could feel him evaluating whether or not he should continue. At last, he continued in calm, quiet tones. "They taunted me for a bit, and then… they dragged me out of the castle and to the Quidditch pitch. It was December, almost Christmas holidays. There was snow everywhere, and it was freezing." He shifted his eyes to the snow-laden window. "There, they tied me to the base of one of the goals, used me as target practice for a while, and then … left."

Narcissa stared.

Iain smiled grimly. "I was out there for hours. If Madam Hooch hadn't found me, I would've stayed out there all night. I was almost passed out from the cold by the time they got me inside."

 _Bellatrix tortured a twelve-year-old_ , thought Narcissa against her will. Bellatrix had been seventeen, and she had tied up and cast spells at a twelve-year-old before leaving him in the snow in the middle of the night. Narcissa felt like vomiting.

Iain fell quiet and looked at his homework again, but he didn't seem to be accomplishing anything. Finally, after what felt like an eternity with a stone at the pit of her stomach, Narcissa scooted a little closer. "How can you not hate me?" she asked in a whisper, imploring. She was desperate to know.

"Hate you?" repeated iain in disbelief. To Narcissa's immense relief, his smile returned – the real smile, not the shade of one he'd had for a terrible moment just seconds before. "Why on earth would I hate you?"

"Because of what my sister did to you, of course," said Narcissa, horrified. "You knew who I was when you met me on that first day in Potions, and yet you – you didn't say or do anything. You could have – you  _should_  have – "

"Narcissa," interrupted Iain gently, setting aside his homework, "You are not your sister. I never had any intention of holding what Bellatrix did against you."

Narcissa could not wrap her mind around this. It simply did not make sense to her. Sure, Bellatrix and Narcissa looked nothing alike, but surely he had to think of Bellatrix when he looked at her? It was obvious the memory of Bellatrix's assault bothered him, as it would've for just about anyone. And yet he had never even mentioned it, much less bore the grudge he was duly owed.

Iain seemed to sense Narcissa's confusion, and he reached forward, tipping up her chin with his fingertip. "Really," he told her. "What Bellatrix did doesn't mean anything for you. She's her own person. And so are you."

"So you really don't… secretly hate me for it?"

Iain shook his head, even as his smile remained. "Not even a little."

Narcissa still fought to understand. "But… why not?"

Iain dropped his hand and let his arms fold around an upraised knee as he shrugged one shoulder. "I 'spose I just… don't hold grudges."

Amazed at this simple notion, Narcissa let herself think on it rather than respond right way. Shifting around until she was at his side, Narcissa tilted her head and let her temple fall against his shoulder.

"I wish I could do that," she whispered at last, eyes on the window as the light outside faded to grey. "I hold on to everything." When Iain linked their arms between them, Narcissa shifted her head enough to look up at his face.

"Sometimes," she murmured, "I think if someone were to hand me an anchor, I would let it drag me to the bottom of the ocean."

At this, Iain looked over Narcissa's face, and she could see him thinking deeply about her words. Never in Narcissa's life had someone given her thoughts so much consideration. For once, Iain didn't say anything. Instead, he simply curled her closer and tilted his head, so that his cheek fell on the crown of her blonde hair.

They stayed that way until it was time for them to return to their respective dormitories, and then they went their separate ways.

* * *

Classes continued, and Narcissa met her assignments with renewed energy. She had her gold, her father hadn't done anything ludicrously embarrassing or offensive in the last month, and best of all, she had Iain to talk to and spend time with every single day.

Well, almost every single day. Sometimes he had to go and spend time with that Ravenclaw girl. Once, Narcissa had spotted them in the hallway together, and Iain had been grinning down at her – Abigail – while twisting a piece of her curly brown hair in his fingers. Narcissa had scoffed. Abigail needed conditioner. The split-ends!

However, Narcissa was far too mature to mention this or any other condemning remarks to Iain, who seemed to like his 'girlfriend' well enough, even though the poor girl knew next to nothing about beauty, and those  _shoes_! Good lord.

But again, Narcissa was mature. She would not comment, nor try to unfairly take any of Iain's attention away from So-and-So. No matter how badly the girl needed a manicure.

"Narcissa!" hissed Iain, appearing at the witch's side quite suddenly. Narcissa barely kept from shrieking, and she put a hand over her heart.

"What?" she asked, glancing around the empty corridor. It was a Wednesday, and nearly everyone else was at lunch.

Iain took in a deep breath, and Narcissa barely kept from laughing. It was rare to see him so irritated, and it made her want to giggle. Plus, she knew exactly what he was on about. In his hand he held one of Narcissa's blue hair clips, and again, Narcissa fought the urge to snicker.

"Narcissa, you need to stop this."

"I haven't any idea what you're talking about."

"You keep leaving stuff like this in my bag!" he told her, picking up her hand and depositing the hair clip into it. "And don't think I don't know what you're doing, either."

"Doing?" repeated Narcissa with mock innocence. "I'm not doing anything!"

"Yes you are, you little snake!" he told her heatedly, even as Narcissa grinned. "Abigail found this one! And now she keeps asking me about other girls, including any and all girls who talk to me in class!" He waved his arms frantically. "She probably thinks I'm cheating on her!"

"I don't see how that's my fault," said Narcissa. "You can't be angry at me just for forgetting a hair clip!"

"You're doing it on purpose, Cissa! And don't try to deny it, because it's exactly the sort of petty thing you'd do."

Narcissa gasped dramatically. "Are you implying that I'm petty?"

"Oh," said Iain, "I'm not implying anything. I'm stating facts." He ticked off his fingers. "Your name is Narcissa. Your eyes are blue. You are petty. Facts."

Narcissa smirked, deeply amused. Even Iain looked now like he was fighting the urge to lose his anger to exasperated amusement. After a moment, she sighed again and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You should really be thanking me, you know," she said, past the point of denying it. "A little jealousy is good for a relationship."

"Oh my god." Iain dragged both of his hands down his face.

"It's true!" exclaimed Narcissa. "Jealousy reminds both partners to appreciate what they've got."

"I'm going to strangle you," he told her flatly. "And then I'm dumping your body in the lake."

"Well, that's not very Hufflepuff of you."

Iain glared. "Fine," he said at last. "But just you wait. Because when you finally get Lucius Malfoy to date you, I'm going to start leaving my tie on your bed post or something. See how you like it."

Narcissa pondered on this, not at all disturbed by the idea, which Iain seemed to catch immediately. He pointed at her. "Stop leaving your girl stuff in my bag and pockets. Understand?"

Narcissa folded her arms. "As you wish," she said coyly.

At that moment, she glanced down the corridor and saw Abigail and a few other Ravenclaws coming up a flight of stairs. Looking back at Iain, she flashed him a wicked grin and grabbed his face, only to press her painted red lips on his cheek with a big kiss. Iain blinked, stupefied for a moment as Narcissa pulled away. Then she darted off, just as Iain caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window and realized he now had a big red lipstick imprint on his cheek.

"ARGH!" he exclaimed, wiping furiously at his cheek just as Abigail rounded the corner. Narcissa nearly died of laughter behind a statue, listening to Iain furiously make excuses to Abigail before hurrying off, robe sleeve scrubbing at his cheek.

Satisfied, Narcissa slipped away and went happily to lunch.

* * *

Iain wasn't particularly happy with Narcissa for a few days, but apparently he'd been honest when he said he didn't hold grudges, because he eventually got over it and the two resumed their normal schedule of spending aimless time together, hidden away from the rest of the world.

Narcissa happily showed him her Transfiguration exam, which she'd gotten top marks for. "McGonagall was so impressed, she gave five points to Slytherin!" she told Iain proudly, who beamed in return.

"Excellent work," he told her. "You're brilliant, truly." He made a face. "I didn't score as well on that. Transfiguration has never been my best subject."

"What is?" asked Narcissa curiously, putting her test away and wrapping herself up in her cloak, which she twisted to her front and tucked under her chin. The room was freezing, as the sun had already set and stolen away any of the day's warmth. Snow fell in increasingly heavy droves outside, but they'd conjured a little fire in a bottle to help stave off the worst of the chill.

"Mm," said Iain, thinking. "Probably Care of Magical Creatures. I like being outside with the animals."

"Oh, I hate that class," said Narcissa, rolling her eyes. "It's so dirty."

"How can you not like animals?" asked Iain, shaking his head. "I miss my dog so much when I'm here, I don't even know what to do." He paused. "Want to see a picture of him?" Narcissa's lips quirked at a smile. She didn't give a flying nargle about dogs, but it was clear Iain really wanted to show her.

"Sure," she said.

Iain reached into his robes and pulled out a strange brown leather container, which he flipped open. Narcissa tilted her head curiously, and Iain dug out a small photo, which he shifted to show her. The photo was of Iain, wearing Muggle clothes, with a large shaggy dog hoisted into his arms. They were both grinning at the camera, and the dog's sloppy tongue was hanging out. Narcissa laughed.

"What a great big beast! What's its name?"

"Angus," said Iain, looking appreciatively at the photo. "I wish I could bring him here. You can have cats and toads, but you can't have dogs! It's stupid." He put the photo away, but Narcissa took the leather thing from him before he could put it back.

"What is this?" She asked, perplexed. She let it fall open and some cards fell out.

Iain's grin grew. "It's a wallet."

Narcissa raised a brow and turned the "wallet," perusing through its folds. She pulled something out. "You have parchment in here," she told him, rubbing the strange paper between her fingers. Iain laughed.

"Thas' money. I didn't get it all changed out at Gringotts."

"This is your currency?" asked Narcissa in disbelief. "But it's paper!" She accidentally ripped a bill, and Iain slapped a hand over his face. "Oops, sorry." Narcissa pulled out her wand. "I'll fix it –  _Reparo_!" The strange currency repaired itself, but it was slightly crooked at the seam. "Well, I tried."

Amused, Iain let Narcissa continue to peruse the wallet. "So why does parchment have value?" asked Narcissa.

"Because we say it does," said Iain, relaxing back against a crate, content to watch her. "It used to be backed up by gold, but not anymore."

"Weird," said Narcissa, holding up all the bills in the wallet. "Is this a lot of currency?"

"No," he said with a chuckle. "Not worth more than a few galleons."

"Oh," said Narcissa, replacing it. She fished out some other cards and read the names of businesses. Then she came to another small photograph, like the one of his dog. "Is this your family?" she asked, surprised. Iain shifted forward and moved up next to her, leaning over her shoulder.

"Aye, tha's them," he said softly. Then he lifted a finger to point. "Those are my parents, my ma and pa. My little brother Euan, my little sister, Sophie. And there's me, a'course. And those're my two older brothers, Callum and Duncan."

Narcissa eyed Iain's two older brothers. They both had coarse, hard-lined faces with matching grimaces, much in contrast to Iain's easy smile. "Oh, well, they look…"

"Rough, aye," said Iain, sitting back some just behind Narcissa. "They're mean cusses. All they do is drink and get into fights." He rolled his eyes. Narcissa grimaced sympathetically. She could relate to that better than Iain would probably expect. Her eyes drifted to the two little ones. They were quite cute and smiley.

"They look very sweet," she said of the younger two children. Iain's expression, which had tensed some at the mention of his brothers, relaxed again.

"They are. I miss them, too. And my parents." He pointed to his mother, a round-faced lady with a smile very much like Iain's. She was wearing an apron over a strange Muggle dress with buttons. Iain's father looked a lot like him, although he had a hint of that hard face his older sons wore. He was wearing some sort of denim. It all looked so odd.

"What does your family think of you being a wizard?" asked Narcissa. She could not imagine what mere Muggles must think of it. Iain paused, looking thoughtful. Then he shrugged with a small smile.

"My parents and my older brothers don't think much of it," he admitted, raking a hand through his hair. "I think my Pa would rather I would just at home, bein' normal. I think he always planned for me to take over his shop, but when I left for Hogwarts…"

"Why can't one of your brothers do that?" asked Narcissa. Running some silly Muggle shop was beneath a wizard. "Besides, they should be celebrating you and your magic! You're the most impressive person in your family!"

"My brothers are idiots," said Iain. "They'd just as soon lose the shop in a bet than they would run it." He paused. "I do wish my parents were a bit happier about me being a wizard, but … they're supportive enough."

Narcissa peered at him. "Are you happy you came to Hogwarts? Or do you wish you had stayed at home?"

At this question, Iain's eyes lit up, and Narcissa felt herself smile. "Hogwarts is my favorite place to be," he told her. "I'd never regret it."

At that moment, Narcissa whole-heartedly agreed. Turning back to the photograph, she tilted and then shook it. When nothing happened, she frowned. At her side, Iain chuckled.

"It's a Muggle photograph. It doesn't move."

"Really?" asked Narcissa, astounded. "Why not? What do they do all day?"

"Muggle photographs are just… a moment in time," explained Iain. "They don't do or think or say anything."

"How odd!" Narcissa began digging through the wallet again. She pulled out a plastic rectangle. "What's this? Oh, it's got your photograph on it!" She squinted at the text. "And all your secrets!"

Iain laughed, one arm over his stomach. "They're not secrets, Narcissa. It's a driver's license."

"What does that mean?"

"Means I can legally operate an automobile," he told her, reclining on an elbow. Narcissa thought on this.

"Oh, I know what an automobile is! It's those – those carriages, right?"

Iain laughed again. "Right."

Narcissa further examined the little pink card. "It says here you were born on March 12th, 1956." She paused and smirked haughtily. "I'm a month older than you! My birthday is in February." She turned back to the card. "Address is in Stirling, Scotland," she read. "And your full name is Iain Alasdair Stewart!" She giggled. "Goodness."

"I know," said Iain with an eyeroll. "But thas' not even as bad as what my parents nearly named me."

"Oh?" said Narcissa, replacing his license. "And what did they nearly call you?"

Iain's lips quirked. "Algernon."

Narcissa laughed and cupped a hand over her mouth. "I think Iain suits you much better," she said, reclining next to him, the wallet still in her hands.

"I agree," Iain replied with a nod.

Narcissa shifted until they were shoulder to shoulder and poked through another fold in his wallet. "Ah," he said, when she pulled out a small stack of white and black squares. "Those are my concert tickets," he said, pleased. He held them reverently and showed them to her one by one. "The best concerts I ever attended. See? The Rolling Stones, The Who, and my all-time favorite, " he showed her the last one. "The Beatles.  _Live_. Best experience of my life."

"They do have some good songs," agreed Narcissa mildly.

Iain stared. "Wait, you've heard of them?"

"Of course," said Narcissa. "Everyone knows The Beatles." At Iain's incredulous stare, she went on, "You only missed them by a few years, you know. I think one of them was even in Hufflepuff."

Iain jerked. "Wait – What? Are you – Are you saying that The Beatles were…"

"Here at Hogwarts?" Narcissa smirked, glad to finally know something Iain didn't. "Of course. You didn't think they got that popular on talent alone, did you?" She rolled her eyes. Iain, meanwhile, seemed to be in the middle of having a panic attack.

"The Beatles were HERE?" he exclaimed, looking at the dusty stone floor, as if he could track their scent. "Right where I'm standing?"

"Yes!" said Narcissa, laughing at him. "The greatest wizard who ever lived, Merlin himself, stood where you are standing right now! And you're more impressed by The Beatles?"

"Damn right I am!" said Iain animatedly, before clasping his hands over his heart. "Amazing…"

"If you say so," said Narcissa, poking through the last fold in his wallet. She pulled out a small square package with something circular trapped in it. "What on earth is – "

Iain practically leaped over Narcissa and snatched the wrapped circle out of her hands. "No - nothing, nothing!" He hurriedly shoved it away as Narcissa turned and tried to get it back.

"What is it! Tell me!"

"It's nothing! Stop worrying about it!"

The two engaged in a full-on wrestling match for the little square of paper, but Iain shoved it down deep in the inside pocket of his robes, even though Narcissa had jumped on him and was apparently not at all above sticking her hands in his pockets. He tried to squirm away, but finally he had to grab her hands and pry them away, which he nearly could not do for laughing.

It was then that they both realized how Narcissa was pressed over him, her hands pinned to his chest by his own, her hair falling forward and curtaining them both. One of her legs had ended up between both of his, and his back was to the floor, beneath her. For a moment, they simply looked at one another, Iain's hands flexing tensely over Narcissa's smaller ones.

Moving away did not even occur to Narcissa. She kind of liked where she was, even though it certainly wasn't comfortable. It was, though, the warmest she'd been since arriving to their hidden spot that day. Her cheeks held a flush that seeped into her neck, and the lower-most part of her stomach felt suddenly heated as well.

After a moment, Iain shifted, and Narcissa felt herself slide the few inches back to the floor. Quickly, she pulled back all of her limbs and swept her hair back from her flushed face. In just a few seconds, they were both composed again.

"I – uh," Iain cleared his throat and quickly stood. "It's late, we should – "

"Yes, I was just about to – "

"Good night," he said, picking up his cloak and then hesitating before accepting his wallet back from Narcissa and tucking it away. Picking up his homework, Iain glanced at Narcissa one more time before disappearing through the dark, long-forgotten room. The door opened and closed, leaving Narcissa alone.

With a long, deep breath, Narcissa picked up her own things, tucked them into her arms and then retreated to the cold Slytherin dungeons.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I'm so glad so many of you are excited about Iain's continuing part in this story! It's a special thing to have fanfiction readers attach to an original character, so I'm very happy!

Hope you continue to enjoy…

* * *

_Winter was fully settled on Hogwarts, and the Christmas holidays were approaching. However, I hadn't heard from either of my sisters or my father in quite a while. This worried me, but I hardly had the time to think on it._

_Exams were coming up, classwork was growing more intense, and most importantly, I had Iain to talk with. So even though my family was curiously silent, I was surpisingly content._

_Unfortunately, reality has a way of encroaching on happiness._

_And so it happened to us, Iain and myself._

* * *

It was all coming together. Oh, yes. Narcissa's brilliant master plan was nearly complete. All she needed was one last bit of help…

"Iain!" crowed Narcissa as soon as she found him in their space, where a nest of blankets stayed almost permanently in the abandoned classroom. Iain was in the middle of prodding the fire into life ("Are you a wizard or not?" asked Narcissa, rolling her eyes) and he looked up as she entered.

As soon as he spotted her innocent smile, he looked back at the fireplace with a smirk. "Don't even try whatever you're thinking about," he told her. "I can tell you're up to something."

"When am I  _ever_?" Narcissa asked, putting a delicate hand over her chest. "I'm just excited to see you is all!"

"Mmhm," said Iain, setting down on the blankets that protected their spot from the cold stone floor. "So? What is it, then?"

Narcissa cast off any pretense of innocence and plopped down rather ungracefully next to him, which made Iain snort. "I have," said Narcissa, "the most brilliant plan for getting Lucius Malfoy to fall madly in love with me."

Iain put his hands behind his head and leaned against a crate. "Oh?" he said, amused. "Do tell."

Narcissa wiggled forward like an eager cat. "The Winter Ball," she told Iain emphatically, and Iain blinked, looking unimpressed.

"What about it?"

Narcissa shifted and tucked her ankles underneath herself. "It's the perfect opportunity for me to catch Lucius' attention! There will be dancing and music, and I'll be in my absolutely stunning – " she flourished her hands " – new dress robes, looking beautiful and regal. I'll have to go with some idiot, someone I can ditch – "

"Charming."

" – and then I'll catch Lucius' attention, get him to dance with me and then –  _voila_! He will fall madly in love with me."

Iain raised a brow. "You must be one hell of a dancer."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "For your information, I am an amazing dancer. It's more than that, though. There's an artistry to seduction, and believe me, I've been practicing it for years. I know exactly what to do."

Iain chuckled. "I… believe you," he said lightly. They both paused, and Iain seemed as though he might say something else, something that would earn him a slap on the arm, but instead he simply asked, "So where will Corinne Lestrange be during all this? I'm assuming you know she's not going to jus' let you dance with her beloved boyfriend, right?"

"Of course," said Narcissa, drumming her fingers on her knees. "Which is … where you come in."

"Oh, god."

"Just listen, please," said Narcissa, jumping forward and gripping his arm. "It's going to work perfectly."

"What is?" asked Iain skeptically.

At this, Narcissa grinned wickedly and reached in her bag, where she pulled out a small vial. "This," she said, "is just a little something that you – my favorite friend – will slip into Corinne's pumpkin juice during the ball – "

" _What_?" exclaimed Iain.

" – and it will make her sick enough that she'll have to leave the ball, and Lucius will have to remain because he's Head Boy – "

"I am not poisoning Corinne Lestrange," said Iain firmly.

Narcissa made a face. "Oh, it won't hurt her! Just – make her a little sick, is all." She paused. "Besides, this is Corinne we're talking about. She probably puts deadly nightshade in her breakfast cereal!"

"No way, Narcissa," said Iain, folding his arms. "I would do a lot for you – "

"Come on, Iain!"

"But poisoning someone? No! And why can't you do it?"

"Because Corinne watches me all the time," pointed out Narcissa desperately. "She already hates me because of Bellatrix! But you – you, she won't even notice!"

"Narcissa," said Iain with an aggrieved sigh. "There's no way – "

The young witch frowned deeply. Her best pleading didn't seem to be working, which was a great disappointment. "Please, Iain," she said one more time, this time soft and earnest. "If I can make Lucius pay attention to me, even a little…"

"He should be paying attention to you anyway," Iain told her gently, touching her hand. "He's a fool not to."

"He can't do anything with Corinne hanging around," Narcissa said, features crumbling. "She's got him all tied up. But if she's out of the way, just for a little while…" Narcissa squeezed Iain's hand. "Iain, this could be my whole future."

At this, Iain's eyes flickered. After a long moment, he sighed and accepted the vial, though he looked at it carefully before saying anything.

"You're sure this won't really hurt her?"

"Nausea, maybe some stomach pains," confirmed Narcissa, brows furrowed as she edged closer again. "Nothing more, I swear to you."

Iain looked over Narcissa's face. "I hope that's true. Because I'm going to take some myself before I go putting it in someone else's drink."

Narcissa grimaced. "You'll probably vomit." It was true, but Narcissa meant what she said. She didn't intend to kill Corinne. There was no way that crazy woman wouldn't come back as a terrifying ghost, and Narcissa didn't have time to deal with that.

"I'll deal with it. Give me a reason to miss class tomorrow," he said, and then tucked away the vial. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

"Oh – " Narcissa threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him into a tight hug. "You are the best," she told him, kissing his cheek. She pulled back to see him a little rosy-faced from that, and she hid a little smile. "If there's something you want me to do for you in return, you should just tell me! Really, I owe you." Relaxed now, Narcissa leaned against the crate next to him as she thought. "Oh! I have an idea!" She beamed. "You're going to the ball too, right? With Abigail?"

"I s'pose," he said, not seeming excited. Narcissa knew him well enough to know that probably had more to do with the ball than Abigail. Iain didn't really like dressing up.

"Well," said Narcissa in what she thought was a very kind manner, "what if I did her hair and makeup that night? Really, I know some glamour charms that will look fabulous on her."

Iain smiled at this, as if he knew this was exactly Narcissa's brand of generosity. "I appreciate it," he said, "but Abigail doesn't really like to wear makeup."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she said, "that's what girls always say when they're – " she hesitated, before going on haltingly, " … book - … ish."

Iain narrowed his eyes at her. "Narcissa," he said warningly, and she tossed up her hands.

"What!" she exclaimed.

"I know exactly what you meant by that," he informed her. "Apologize."

"She isn't even in here!" argued Narcissa. "Why should I apologize?"

Iain leaned forward and said pointedly, "Because I think you could use the practice."

Narcissa pursed her lips, but Iain was unrelenting, so she muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Good, now try it again, and this time don't make a face."

Narcissa sighed. "I'm sorry."  _That your girlfriend is ugly,_ she added mentally.

"Thank you," said Iain, reclining again. After a moment of studying her, his lips quirked at a devious smirk and he leaned forward. "You know what? I've figured out what you can do to pay me back for all this ball business." Narcissa eyed him suspiciously. "You," said Iain, "must promise me that you will say something nice –  _out loud_  – to one person every day for the rest of the month."

Narcissa's jaw dropped.

"A real compliment," Iain told her. "And not just to other Slytherins, either. Every single day."

Pouting, Narcissa, pulled up her legs and crossed her arms. "I don't like giving compliments," she said. "It's awkward."

"It's awkward for you because you're not used to it," he told her. "Just try to be as genuine as possible. Even if you just … I don't know, like someone's scarf or something. Say it to them. And then write down every compliment you give and read it to me later, so I know you've really done it."

Narcissa twisted her lips and glared to the side.

"Well?" said Iain. "Do we have a deal?"

"Very well," said Narcissa, sounding like the most aggrieved sixteen-year-old alive. "But people are going to look at me strangely."

"You'll live," he informed her.

* * *

The following day, Narcissa spent all day trying to think of nice things to say to people. It wasn't that she never thought good things about others, but saying them to that person never even occurred to her. In fact, the idea of having to speak up and say something complimentary out of the blue was outrageously terrifying to her.

Still, she had promised Iain, so she would do it. She decided to try something easy for the first one, ease herself into it.

"Your hair looks pretty today," she told Elizabeth in Charms. Elizabeth glanced up and waited, and when Narcissa did not follow up the compliment with a backhanded remark, the other girl balked.

"Oh," Elizabeth said after a lengthy silence. "Thank you."

Smirking, Narcissa pulled out a little bound leather journal and wrote:

_December 6_ _th_ _, 1972: Told Elizabeth that her hair looked nice._

The following day, Narcissa noticed a Ravenclaw girl with very fashionable shoes. Narcissa paused and told her she liked them, and the girl simply stared in response before giving a shaky smile. Narcissa pulled out her journal.

_December 7_ _th_ _, 1972: Told a Ravenclaw girl I liked her black suede shoes._

_Note to self: Find out where I can buy those shoes._

The day after that, while Narcissa was in Herbology, a Gryffindor boy was the first to bring his plant to bloom, and he looked very proud of himself. It had been a difficult assignment, so Narcissa looked at him across the table and said, "You are very good with your plants."

The boy looked up, and after blinking a few times, he smiled and shrugged almost shyly. "Thanks," he said. "You look like you're out of seeds. Do you want my extra?"

Surprised, because very few people were willing to offer Narcissa anything, she accepted the seeds. "Thank you," she said, adding them to her pile. She and the boy didn't speak for the rest of the class, but she could not forget that he had given her something without being prompted, which was nice.

_December 8_ _th_ _, 1972: Told a Gryffindor boy he was good with plants._

_Note to self: Herbology is stupid and dirty._

* * *

At the end of the second week of December, Narcissa brought Iain her leather journal and read to him all the compliments she had given so far. Each new line seemed to make her prouder and prouder.

"And then," she told him heartily, reading from her latest entry, "I told a Hufflepuff girl who was singing in the hallway that her voice was very good, and it really was." Narcissa lowered the book. "And do you know," she said, perplexed, "I saw her again the next day, and she gave me a music book, for no reason! She said it had the song she was singing in it, and she thought I might like it. Isn't that odd?"

"Very strange," said Iain, smiling gently and never taking his eyes off Narcissa.

* * *

The night of the winter dance grew nearer, as did the holidays, but until then, Narcissa and all the other students had mounds of schoolwork to do. Narcissa didn't mind, as she was simply excited about the prospect of winning Lucius Malfoy's heart. Unfortunately, Narcissa's elation was short-lived, as it so often seemed to be.

"Do Muggle celebrate Christmas?" she asked one day in late December, just one week before the Winter Ball. Iain looked up at her and nodded.

"Aye, they do. Well, most. I imagine there's some who don't."

"What sort of things do they do?" asked Narcissa. The pair was standing at their Potions table working on the conclusion of their assignment. Honestly, she should have been more cautious about talking to Iain so comfortably in Potions, where anyone could see them and guess they were chatting in a friendly manner instead of working, but sometimes Narcissa genuinely forgot.

Iain often made her feel that way.

"They do the same things witches and wizards do," Iain told her, patient as always with Narcissa's questions. In fact, he seemed happy at her inquiries. "Trees, food, gifts. That sort of thing."

Narcissa measured out some roots. "And what's your favorite gift you've ever gotten?" She wasn't sure why she wanted to know. She just liked it, hearing about things that made Iain happy.

He thought about it carefully, as she knew he would. At last, he said, "A fishing rod." Narcissa made a face.

"Ew," she said. "Fishing? That's a gift, really?"

Iain laughed. "I love fishing. Besides, it was a nice rod. Best gift my parents ever gave me." He pointed at her. "And just because you made that face, I'm going to teach you how to fish one day. Promise."

"Good luck with that," said Narcissa with her usual prissiness, falling silent as the two Slytherin girls, Sybil and Elizabeth, moved behind the pair again to gather some ingredients from a bin. When they did, Sybil paused and leaned over to Narcissa, grinning devilishly as she did so. It was the look she always had when she was about to give some particularly juicy gossip.

"Narcissa!" she whispered, and Narcissa looked up. "Did you hear about Rosemary Nott?"

"No," replied Narcissa, curious. She lived for gossip just as much as her friends, and Rosemary Nott was a well-to-do former Slytherin who had graduated just two years ago. "What did you hear?"

"You won't believe it," said Sybil with malicious glee. "Her family found her in bed… with a  _Mudblood_!"

Narcissa's eyes widened, and her first thought was disgust.  _Really?_ she thought, scandalized. Then that feeling was gradually replaced by reluctant understanding, the sort that started with –  _oh, wait_. Her insides twisted, and she staunchly refused to look in Iain's direction, although he was no more than a few inches from her and could surely hear everything. "I can't believe that!" Narcissa managed at last, her features contorting a bit in her effort to stay calm. She needed that revulsion to come back, because that was what her friends were expecting, but it was shockingly hard to conjure.

"I know," said Sybil, gasping dramatically. Elizabeth tutted and shook her head, even folding her arms and smirking at Iain's back, even as he continued to work in silence. "It's true, though. Her own brother discovered her and the Mudblood wrapped up in one another's arms! Goodness, can you imagine?"

"What did her brother do?" asked Narcissa, glancing again nervously at Slughorn, who still hadn't noticed them.

"Oh," said Sybil, laughing, "that's the best part! He snatched her right out of bed and threw her out onto the street, stark naked!" Narcissa put a hand over her heart, unable to bear the thought of such humiliation. She did not laugh with the other two, though she forced herself to relax some and quirk her lips so they wouldn't look at her oddly.

"She's disowned, of course," said Sybil, smirking. "And the Mudblood she was with is lucky to be alive. If that had been  _my_  family, there would have been a body to hide."

"Surely," said Narcissa uncertainly, "they'll forgive her?"

At this, Sybil and Elizabeth both looked squarely at Narcissa, their eyes narrowed. "Would you?" asked Elizabeth icily.

Narcissa swallowed tightly. After a long moment of silence, she shifted back in the direction of her table. "No," she murmured quietly, and the other girls looked satisfied.

After a few minutes of silence, Slughorn called an end to the class and everyone gathered their things. Iain stepped out first, but Sybil brushed by him hard, knocking his book out of his hand. "Watch where you're going, Mudblood," she told him with a venomous smile.

Narcissa was shocked by the ire she felt at Sybil's jab, but she barely had time to think on that before Iain snatched up his book, looking down at Sybil with a flat glare and said, "Sorry, I just didn't expect you to be in my way. What? Did Gringotts let you off work early today?"

Sybil's jaw dropped, and Narcissa barely covered up her snort of laughter as Iain brushed by Sybil and left without a word to anyone else.

* * *

That night, Narcissa made her way to the abandoned classroom where she and Iain met nearly every night. She was surprised to find he was already there, as he normally got caught up talking to friends or eating. On this night, however, he was already in place next to the old dusty fireplace they had cleared out and started using to make proper fires in the otherwise cold room. Narcissa paused just inside the locked door and looked at him.

Iain was sitting on a crate near the fireplace, looking at the crackling flames and strumming on what Narcissa recognized as a guitar. She had rarely seen one, given that they weren't as common amongst witches and wizards, but she knew what it was. Moving closer, she hopped up on the crate next to him and offered a small smile. He looked so uncharacteristically far away.

"Is that yours?" she asked, pointing at the guitar.

Iain nodded, strumming a few times. Narcissa liked the sound. "Brought it with me from home," he said quietly. "But I don't get to play it like I'd like."

Narcissa leaned her back against another crate piled high behind them. "Play something," she said.

So Iain began to play, and although he didn't sing along, Narcissa recognized the tune as a Beatles song. She couldn't think of the name, but it wasn't a happy tune. Instead, the song was rather mournful, and she suspected that Iain was playing it slower than its original pace. The pair remained quiet for a long time, simply listening to the sound of Iain's guitar. At last, Iain spoke up, still playing as he did so.

"So what those girls were talking about in Potions," he said, still looking at the fire. "Do you think that was true?"

Narcissa twisted her fingers in her lap. "Probably," she murmured.

A few more strums of the guitar. "Is that what your family would do to you?"

Narcissa dropped her eyes to her hands, which were growing red from her anxious habit. After a long time, she looked back up at the fire again and admitted very softly, " ... Worse."

Iain stopped playing, though he didn't move the guitar from his lap. Instead, he leaned back against the same crate and sighed. Then he turned his head and smiled, but it wasn't his usual smile. It was sad, like his song.

"I guess you're pretty brave then, for being friends with me." He stumbled somewhat over the word 'friends,' and they both ignored it. The word wasn't right, but there wasn't a better one they could think of.

Narcissa looked over at him, and the image of his hands jerking away from the football after Bellatrix had cursed it flashed to the front of her mind. "No," she disagreed softly. "You're brave. I'm selfish." Biting her lip, Narcissa shifted a little and said with convinction, "My father – deep down, he loves me. I know he does." She paused, before going on in a very small whisper, "He must." She blinked away a tear. "So I don't think he would – "

 _Hurt me,_  was what she planned on saying, but she could not say that, because her father had hurt her before.

" – permanently… harm me," she finished at last. Iain set his guitar aside, his attention unwaveringly focused on her. Something in his eyes looked a little angry at her hesitation, which was an expression she had never seen on him before. Narcissa cleared her throat. "But you – you, he would hurt. No matter if we were just … friends." Again, that same stumble, this time on Narcissa's part. They both looked away.

Iain brought up one knee and placed his arm on it, toying with the hem of his robes as he did so. "Do you think – you might want to … do you think we should – stop?"

"Is that what you want?" asked Narcissa, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.

" _No_ ," he responded emphatically, and Narcissa's heart lifted. "No, Narcissa. I don't. I just – I don't want to cause you any grief, thas' all." He inched closer. "You seem like you have enough to deal with."

Narcissa frowned at her lap, wringing her hands again. It was a nervous habit of hers from when she was a child, something she would do when things were loud at home and then suddenly silent for hours or even days. The years when Andromeda and Bellatrix had gone to school without her were the worst.

The truth was, she did have a lot to deal with, but she wasn't sure she could handle it if Iain were to leave her now. When Narcissa didn't say anything, and instead only continued twisting her swollen red digits, Iain reached over and placed his larger hand over hers. Narcissa froze, and Iain tugged her fingers apart. When she looked up at him, her eyes wide, Iain took the hand closest to him and laced his fingers there, so she couldn't twist them anymore.

Their joined hands settled comfortably between them. Narcissa looked down, examining their differences. His hands had been the very first thing she'd commented on when they'd first met. She'd been positively horrified by the sight of them.

Now Iain's warm hand in hers was the greatest source of comfort she had.

"I know this might be hard to talk about," said Iain after a few moments, "but what really goes on at your home, Narcissa?"

Narcissa felt her eyes grow glassy, and her gaze flickered up to Iain's face before looking at the fire again. Her hand in his tightened considerably. She did not speak immediately, but Iain waited with his trademark patience.

At last, she said quietly, "Nothing so severe since my mother's death." Blinking rapidly against the tears that threatened, Narcissa whispered, "She took her own life."

Iain's eyes widened with shock, and briefly, guilt. She knew he must be remembering the comment he'd made to her months ago, when she'd snapped at him that her mother was dead.

"She was in the room with us," Narcissa continued, unable to process her own words as she spoke them. "Sitting in a rocking chair next to my bed. When I went to sleep, she was fine. And when I awoke, she was gone." Bellatrix's enraged screams echoed through Narcissa's head, and she recalled so vividly her own childish confusion, quickly replaced by terror.

"I have spent so many years," said Narcissa, trembling, "wondering why we weren't enough. Why couldn't she have stayed alive for us? Weren't we enough to make her happy, despite what Father did? Weren't we the best part of her life?" Tears fell down her cheeks. "Surely, if she would have held on, we could have all – worked together, we could have done something about it all. But she didn't even try." Narcissa sniffled. "She just left us."

"Father abused her severely," she went on, voice low, "he cheated on her and embarrassed her in public. He yelled at her, and he even hit her sometimes."

Iain's hand jerked a little in hers, but he kept it there and listened without interrupting.

Narcissa reached up with her free hand and pressed some of the years away. "After she died, he seemed to hardly even notice her absence. Mother's side of the family stopped contacting us, because they blamed my father for her death. And so we only had Father, and the other Blacks, and even they were quick to dismiss him when he became unpopular." Narcissa sniffed and glared at the ceiling. "No one cared that he abused his wife or neglected his children. They only cared that he let it get so out of control that it caused something as scandalous as suicide."

Narcissa dropped her head again, crying quietly. "Father grew even more distant. Even when I was the only child left at home, he was rarely there, and he never spoke to me. I don't know when he began embezzling gold from the Ministry, but he eventually got caught for that, too. Our reputation as a family began to crumble then, and it only grows worse each year. If we weren't pureblood, we would have no allies left at all."

Covering her mouth with her free hand, Narcissa stifled a sob. "Our home has fallen into disrepair, and my father is too drunk or too heartless to fix it. Bellatrix hates our father so severely, I'm afraid she might kill him, and Andromeda is so often left alone, like I am." Breathing in shakily, Narcissa finally, finally looked up at Iain's face. "And the older we get, the more Father treats us like he treated Mother." She swallowed tightly.

"The only time he even looks at our faces is when we do something to displease him, and that seems to happen more and more often every time we go home," she said, her voice cracking at the last word.

A warm palm appeared at Narcissa's cheek, and she instinctively leaned into it, before the hand holding hers tugged her forward and Iain's arms wrapped fully around her. Narcissa did not resist, instead sinking into the comfort of Iain's chest, trying her best to lose herself in the folds of his robes and the strength of his hard torso.

She was surprised to hear how gruff Iain's voice was when he spoke, as if he were having a hard time speaking himself. "Have you told anyone?" he asked gently. "Someone who might be able to help?"

"There is no one to tell," murmured Narcissa against his robes. "If anyone knew the truth, they would only use it to destroy us once and for all. Send our father to Azkaban, place the three of us at the mercy of the world, with no marriages, no dowry, no inheritances… " Narcissa trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut. "We would have nothing."

"So, what?" asked Iain, an edge to his voice. "You're just going to keep your father in the public's good graces, even after everything he's done? Just so you can keep up the illusion?" He shifted, lifting Narcissa's chin with his fingertips. "Narcissa, that isn't good for you, none of this is – "

"He's already done too much damage to recover himself," said Narcissa, features crumbling. "But if my sisters and I can marry and move out before things get worse, then he won't get to ruin our lives forever. We can get away from him." She sucked in a shaky breath. "We  _have_  to."

"And what if you end up just like – " Iain stopped him, his eyes wide, but Narcissa knew what he was about to say. She didn't hold it against him, though her sensitive heart reeled at the thought of meeting the same miserable end as her mother.

Reaching for Iain's hand again, Narcissa curled his digits in hers and held it close to her stomach. She couldn't recall ever seeing him so upset.

"That is why this ball is so important. If I can convince Lucius Malfoy to love me," whispered Narcissa, "I will have everything I need to get away from my father and help my sisters."

Iain's gaze flickered. "But what if he doesn't treat you well?"

Narcissa's lips quirked a little. "He treats Corinne like a queen," she pointed out softly.

Iain lowered his eyes before he nodded reluctantly. "That's true," he admitted. The two lapsed into silence, and Narcissa leaned against Iain's chest again, her temple situated just below his shoulder. Iain secured his arms around her once more, and she could not remember him ever holding her like this, so protectively. It was nice.

"You deserve better, Narcissa," Iain told her in a low whisper, his hand reaching up and pressing her hair behind her ear. The motion continued down the length of Narcissa's fair locks and brushed against her neck. After a few minutes, he spoke up again.

"Stay for Christmas," he told her. "If you do, I will, too."

Narcissa shifted her head to look up at him. "Don't you want to go home and see you family?"

Iain shrugged, and when he looked down at her, his face was very near hers. He had very light freckles, Narcissa noticed for the first time. "I'll see them for Easter. They can do one Christmas without me."

Narcissa considered this. Christmas holidays for most rich purebloods were full of lavish parties and events, concerts and balls. However, Narcissa's father had stopped getting invited to those things two years ago, after one spectacularly embarrassing drunken tirade, and so that meant Narcissa and her sisters were no longer invited, either.

Perhaps a few well-connected families would still try to seek them out, hoping to earn some gossip from doing so, but Narcissa did not want to be with those people. She did want to see Andromeda and Bellatrix, but they were both being so mysteriously absent, she wasn't sure if they would be at home at all.

"Alright," agreed Narcissa. "I'll stay here, if you will."

"Good," said Iain, satisfied. Keeping his arms around her, Iain looked to the fire and fell silent.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Time for the Winter Ball! 1970s style. And of course, some drama.

Because Narcissa.

* * *

On the final day of classes before Christmas break, Narcissa sped through her assignments and then spent the rest of her evening with her Slytherin girlfriends, going over the details of their outfits and makeup and hair. It was the most time she had spent with them in a while. For the first half hour or so, she truly enjoyed it. When the girls were simply comparing makeups or discussing beauty tips, it was hard for Narcissa to remember why she had avoided them so much in the past few months.

"Who are you going with?" asked Sybil to Narcissa. "I haven't even seen you talking to any boys this term."

"I've barely seen her at all," chimed in Elizabeth. "Where have you been disappearing off to?"

Narcissa glanced up from her bag of beauty tricks, and for just a moment, she stumbled over her response. Then she recovered and said, "It's no one special. Oh, and I've just been studying a lot."

"Why?" asked Ellaria with a smug look. "Think you'll have to start working now that your prospects of marrying are so slim?"

The other girls all shifted, eyes wide. No one had dared insult Narcissa so directly about her father's behavior or her family's suffering status. Everyone waited anxiously for Narcissa's response. Embarrassment flooded Narcissa's heart, causing her skin to sweat.

This. This was why she had pulled away from them, retreating from the public eye to the safe haven she shared with Iain. The stabbing pain that came from Ellaria's vicious jab was familiar, but that did not mean it hurt any less than it ever had. Narcissa had nearly forgotten the feeling. Now it pierced anew.

However, she could not stand to let herself be the victim again, the punchline in a terrible joke. It was too exhausting to care so much. Narcissa was tired of it. She suddenly felt weary, as if she aged decades in the few seconds that passed between Ellaria's remark and her own reply.

 _Iain would never treat me this way_ , she thought with sudden ferocity.

Turning slowly to face Ellaria, Narcissa schooled her face into a cold stare and reigned in all the heat from her cheeks, so that her pale skin was free of any red flush. A single eyebrow cocked in Ellaria's direction.

"Mock me if you like," said Narcissa coolly. "It would be a shame for me to rob you of your one and only skill. However, I feel obligated to point out that no matter how low my family drops in status, they are still leagues above yours." She turned back to her mirror and powdered her face. "If for no other reason than because we're better looking."

Sybil stifled a sharp giggle behind her hand. Ellaria looked furious, but she couldn't really argue. Narcissa was undeniably prettier than Ellaria, and for the moment, that was all that mattered. Huffing, Ellaria got up and marched away.

When Narcissa was satisfied with her makeup, she pulled back from her mirror and smiled.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Narcissa left the girls' dormitory and descended the stairs to the Slytherin Common Room, where the moron she'd tricked into asking her to the Winter Ball waited eagerly for her arrival. His name is Thaddeus Carrow, and while he was not the ugliest boy in Slytherin, he was also far from the handsomest. He seemed as though he couldn't believe his luck, escorting Narcissa Black to the Winter Ball.

But Narcissa had chosen him specifically because she knew he was easily distracted, and she would be able to lose him when the time called for it. So long as Iain came through with the tainted pumpkin juice, that is. Smoothing the folds of her dress robes, Narcissa checked her appearance in a window one more time before they made it to the Great Hall where the dance was being held. Narcissa's lovely white-blonde hair was curled and pulled to one side with a silver clip in her hair. Her robes were soft and flowy, lavender in color and with stylishly bellowed sleeves that were perfect for dancing. The collar of her robes was wide, giving a nice show of Narcissa's smooth white collarbone and the diamond necklace Andromeda had gifted her a few years before.

Thaddeus kept staring at Narcissa as they walked, nearly tripping over himself while Narcissa rolled her eyes. Students entered the great hall in droves, dressed in their finest. The Winter Ball was only for fifth years and up, and Narcissa was glad. No childish little imps like Sirius and his stupid friends to ruin this for her. No doubt they were using the distraction of the ball to get up to some mischief, though, like always.

Narcissa glided into the Great Hall at Thaddeus' side and was pleased to see many people looking her way with appreciation. However, there were only a select few people who she cared to see, and it was several minutes before she spotted any of them.

Originally, she scanned the crowded Great Hall for Lucius Malfoy. However, her eyes stopped when she saw Iain.

Narcissa's heart hammered. Iain had complained all week about having to wear dress robes for the ball, but he looked stunningly handsome in them. However, Narcissa mused darkly that the effect might have been exacerbated by just how plain his stupid girlfriend looked next to him. Honestly, did Abigail even own a compact mirror? She looked like someone's grandmother.

Narcissa noticed with amusement that Iain had seemingly refused to comb his hair, perhaps as an act of rebellion to make up for the fact that he had to wear stuffy formal robes. This made her smile, and she wished so much she could go over to him and playfully press down his messy locks, even though they were not at all unbecoming. In fact, everything about his appearance suited him very well.

After Narcissa had spent several (too long) minutes watching him, Iain looked up and caught her eye across the room. His expression, which had been near a scowl, changed in an instant. He looked amazed, and even though there were perhaps eighty people between them, she could see that he watched only her. Narcissa saw that his lips were even parted, as if he had been about to say something but had stopped. Biting her lip, Narcissa glanced around quickly before smiling and sending him a quick little wave.

Across the room, Iain finally closed his mouth and his lips quirked. He returned the wave very quickly. Then, with a sly glance around, he tapped a hidden pocket in his robes. Narcissa nodded quickly. The plan was on.

Now to find – Oh, there he was.

Lucius Malfoy stood near the front of the room, and damned if he didn't look dashing as well, though that was nothing new. His long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and his posture was straight and stiff. Lucius's elegant features scanned the room carefully, always in Head Boy mode. Lucius did not like any sort of disruption to order, Narcissa had noticed. She figured he must just "overlook" much of Corinne's behavior in that case, because she was the very paragon of disruption and chaos.

She certainly did a good job pretending otherwise, though. At the moment, Corinne – who looked absolutely ravishing, Narcissa admitted bitterly to herself – stood at Lucius's side looking cool and calm. Her dangerous dark eyes moved from person to person, inviting them to judge her and find her more than satisfactory, as though anyone would dare do otherwise. She had one arm linked with Lucius's, and the other was at her own side, settled on one hip. Her chin was high – when was it not? – and even though she only spoke occasionally, her very aura demanded attention.

Narcissa felt like wilting. As beautiful as she had felt when she'd left her dormitory, seeing Corinne look so perfectly natural and gorgeous next to Lucius was quite intimidating. Still, she and Iain had a plan, and they would see it through. So Narcissa turned back to her partner and danced with him while she waited for Iain to make his move.

Around ten minutes later, Lucius and Corinne moved over to the banquet table and picked up drinks. People were crowded all around, filling their goblets and grabbing plates at their own leisure. Often, Corinne would set her goblet on the table so she could touch Lucius' hair or his cheek. They were surely going to dance soon.

Just then, Narcissa spotted Iain nearby. She wasn't sure if she expected him to be very stealthy – it's not as though Hufflepuffs were known for their skill in rule-breaking – but he performed admirably, moving over to the table without attracting notice and then – in a split-second that Narcissa almost missed – dumping the potion in Corinne's drink. He quickly gathered a plate and left.

Narcissa waited. For several heart-pounding seconds, she was afraid Corinne would not retrieve the drink, and she would simply leave it on the table behind her. However, she finally turned and picked it up, draining it down to the last drop. Narcissa bit her lip tightly to keep from laughing.

 _Serves you right_ , she thought wickedly.

The potion took mere moments to take hold. Corinne's composed expression began to shift, and she touched her stomach, frowning. Narcissa could see Lucius turning to speak to her, his brows furrowed in concern, but Corinne merely shook her head. After only two or three minutes, she said something sharp to Lucius and then hurried out of the room, looking as though she might not even make it out of the door before she vomited.

This time, Narcissa did giggle. On to step two.

"I need something to drink," she told Thaddeus pointedly. When he merely blinked, she rolled her eyes and gestured at the table where some of his moron friends had gathered. "Go over there and get me one, you idiot."

"Oh," he said, fumbling. "Right. Sure." He disappeared.

Clearing her throat, Narcissa carefully checked herself and her robes before she moved in Lucius's direction. She had to be careful to pretend as though she hadn't noticed him yet. He was now standing alone, looking bored and a little annoyed. He could not leave to go and check on Corinne, as he was expected to stay at the ball, and so now he was simply loitering.

Narcissa crossed in front of him and paused to pretend as though she was looking out one of the tall windows. Outside was a snow-covered courtyard and, a little further than that, a hedge maze that had been erected recently. Narcissa reached up a hand and pressed back the curtain, head tilted so that her hair felt just so.

When she glanced back, she caught Lucius looking at her. He was only a few feet away. She carefully concealed her smirk.

"Not dancing?" she asked, with just the right amount of softness to her voice.

Lucius watched her, and his lips quirked a little, as if he sensed her game and it amused him. "My date had to leave, unfortunately," he admitted to her, stepping closer. He peered out of the window with her. "And you? Surely you're not here alone?"

"I have a date," revealed Narcissa, glancing to where the Slytherin boys clustered. Thaddeus, as she had expected, had gotten caught up in conversation with them. "Unfortunately, he is far from adequate." She let the curtain fall again, dropping her hands to her front and raising a brow. "A low caliber of wizard in my year, I'm afraid."

"You must have high expectations," noted Lucius with an air of appreciation. Oh, he was so handsome.

"Well," said Narcissa coyly, "I am a Black. We have standards to uphold."

At this, comprehension passed over Lucius's features. "You're Bellatrix's younger sister, aren't you? Narcissa?" His eyes dropped over for a moment in an unmistakably pleased manner. He quickly hid it, but Narcissa had been watching him carefully, and she caught it and held fast. "I remember seeing you at social gatherings when you were much younger."

Narcissa nearly rolled her eyes. Lucius was only one year older than her. It wasn't as though he'd been an adult back then, and she only a child. Still, it did seem as though he had gone from adolescence straight into adulthood, rather than passing through the awkward, lilting stages of puberty that everyone else was forced to endure.

"I remember you, too," said Narcissa simply in response, lips quirked.

"Why is it that I haven't seen you lately?" asked Lucius, eyes flickering over her again. "I'm sure I would have remembered if I had."

This time, Narcissa smirked. This was a clear test, one that Lucius administered with such grace that Narcissa almost –  _almost_  - forgot to be insulted. He was questioning her on the scandals caused by her family, waiting to see how upfront she would be about it. Folding her hands smoothly in front of her, Narcissa said, "I can assure you, you'll be seeing more of us now. My sisters and I aren't children anymore. We are the heads of the Black house, and all will be in order again soon."

This seemed to impress Lucius, and Narcissa cheered inwardly. "That is good to know," he said, smirking. "It would be a shame for a noble house like yours to fall away. After all, there are only so many decent families left."

"The Black family isn't going anywhere," Narcissa told him, before adding, "After all, what would this country be without us?"

"At a loss, I'm sure," said Lucius, chuckling. "In terms of beauty, if nothing else."

"How kind you are to notice," responded Narcissa, giggling. "We do indeed feel as though we contribute much to England's aesthetic."

The two laughed again, and Narcissa found herself smiling sincerely. Her smile only grew when Lucius looked her over and then extended a hand. "As my partner is currently out of commission, would you care to dance, Miss Black?"

Narcissa forced herself to pause, as though she was considering turning him down. Then she tilted her head. "I suppose I could spare you a waltz," she said, but they both knew it was all an act. Still, the teasing was fun, and Lucius seemed happy to accept her coyness as well as her hand. Leading her out to the dance floor, Lucius let his hands fall to their proper positions, one hand on her hip and the other folded in her own. They did not dance any more closely than was proper, and Narcissa noted, with a strange hint of pride, that although Lucius seemed to enjoy her flirting, he was not behaving inappropriately. If Corinne had been the rational sort, she probably wouldn't have found any issue with his behavior.

This seemed like a good sign to Narcissa. Although she wanted Lucius to fall madly in love with her, she did not want to see that he was easily manipulated by women. That would have been an ominous sign.

Instead, she found that he was quite the gentleman, and oh, was he not the most marvelous dancer? Truly, Lucius could lead his partner in a dance unlike any other. His steps were effortless and smooth, and he talked even as they waltzed, spinning her with expert care before accepting her back in his arms. Narcissa danced just as well, keeping her toes light and pointed, her spine straight and her hair in exactly the right spot.

In truth, dancing with Lucius was everything she had ever dreamed it would be.

He was courtly and well-mannered, but he often returned her light flirting, even commenting that her loveliness was something to behold. Narcissa flushed at this, even though she attempted to hide it at every turn. The hall around them was decorated splendidly for the Winter Ball, with crystalline ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a giant ice sculpture of a swan in the center of the room, lovely white chairs at beautifully decorated tables and twinkling lights everywhere. All of this Narcissa saw just behind Lucius' head, outlining him in splendor, as though she needed any more stars in her eyes.

Originally, Narcissa had planned to use the dance to lure Lucius into spending time in the Common Room with her, or perhaps the library, feigning that she needed help studying. However, the dance was so lovely and entertaining that she entirely forgot, and instead they talked of other things, songs and books and Christmas holidays.

Before she knew it, the song was over. Lucius finished the dance with a nod at Narcissa, his hand slow to draw away from hers. She dared to think that he had enjoyed the dance as well, and his pleased expression did not tell her any differently.

Together, they walked away from the dance floor and returned to the window where they had been, still talking. Lucius seemed to have no intention of turning her away, so Narcissa took advantage, sitting herself on a window seat and inviting him to do the same. Lucius sat with her, but as he did so, something caught his eye.

It was Corinne, returning to the feast. She had spotted Lucius talking to Narcissa, and it was clear – even from a distance – that she was furious.

Narcissa's heart hammered in her ribs. No! Not while everything was going so well! Corinne was supposed to be gone ALL evening from that potion. It had kept Iain sick for hours when he'd tried it. Was Corinne simply immune to poison? It wouldn't surprise Narcissa if she was.

Terrified, Narcissa started to rise, but just as Corinne parted the crowds and began to stomp towards them, someone crashed straight into her and spilled a whole plate of food down her robes.

"Sorry!" exclaimed Iain, holding up his hands. "I didn't see you!"

"You!" howled Corinne in a rage, looking down at her fine robes, now covered in food.

"It was an accident!" said Iain, and Narcissa watched, amazed, as some teachers rushed over and scolded Corinne for yelling and cursing. Next to Narcissa, Lucius sighed. She noted with amusement that he seemed annoyed.

They couldn't hear what Corinne was saying anymore, because she was being led out of the Great Hall – as was Iain, who was still apologizing profusely – but it was clear she was having a fit. Once they were all gone, Lucius rolled his eyes for a quick second. "Now she'll be in a temper all night," he muttered. Narcissa bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. So, Lucius  _did_  notice Corinne's ill behavior. That was good to know. Oh, how Narcissa loved Iain, that scoundrel.

"I can't blame her," said Narcissa. "That boy ruined her lovely robes!"

Lucius didn't respond, but he did step away without leaving to console Corinne. He and Narcissa returned to their spot near the window. "Yes, well, I do hope she has calmed by the time the ball has finished," remarked Lucius, before he looked over at Narcissa. "Fortunately, I do have company, even if it was stolen from your poor hapless date."

"I don't mind," she said with a laugh. "He was hardly worth my time."

"And me?" asked Lucius. "Would you say my dance was worth your time?"

Narcissa's eyes twinkled. Lucius was accustomed to people clamoring for his attention and resources. She did not want to be simply another face in his crowd of female admirers. "Your dance was lovely," she said. "One of the best."

"Just one of them?" he asked, sounding amused. "I can't help but wonder who could possibly compete?"

"And wonder you shall," said Narcissa. "We Blacks keep our secrets well."

"So I see," he said, matching her teasing tone. "I suppose I have no choice, then, but to dance with you again. After all, we Malfoys give and receive only the  _very_  best."

Narcissa felt like screaming from the rooftops. A second dance with Lucius Malfoy? He seemed positively enthralled with her. Oh, what joy!She began to reach for Lucius' hand. However, before her hand could land safely in his, Narcissa saw something out of the window.

Through the dark glass, where the snowy courtyard lay below, Narcissa spotted a figure moving quickly, tripping through the snow. Her hand froze in mid-air, not quite in Lucius's grip. It took only a moment for Narcissa to realize what the figure was.

It was Iain, running through the snow outside.

"Narcissa?" questioned Lucius curiously, turning to look where she was watching. However, Iain had disappeared into the hedge maze. He was nowhere to be seen.

"I, erm," said Narcissa, edging a bit closer to the window. That was when she saw three more figures closing in on the maze, and she knew instantly that the figure at the center was Corinne Lestrange. The two lackeys at her side were other Slytherins from her year.

With quick, ferocious steps, the trio entered the hedge maze under a blustery winter wind. Narcissa's eyes widened. Corinne was going after Iain.

Looking back at Lucius, she realized he had been watching her and not seen Corinne and her friends outside. Lucius's hand was still extended. The ball was still on, and many others were dancing and laughing. The hall was alight with warm and revelry. Everything about it felt inviting, and standing just a foot in front of Narcissa was the very incarnation of her dearest dream.

Lucius Malfoy wanted to dance with her again. He had enjoyed her company, and for the first time ever, he had given special attention to her and her only. This was her chance. This was her opportunity to seal Lucius's adoration, to leave him with a dance that would haunt his memories for days and weeks afterwards, until at last he gave up on Corinne and her foul temper and came to Narcissa, begging to hold her in his arms again.

It was all there, just in front of her, waiting in the palm of Lucius's outstretched hand. Narcissa looked up at his handsome face. She wanted to see it smile at her again. She wanted it so much it hurt.

Narcissa pulled her hand away.

"I'm sorry," she said, putting her fingers to her stomach instead and wincing. "I think – I think I may have had some of the same pumpkin juice Corinne had. I suddenly don't feel well."

Lucius frowned. Undoubtedly, he sensed her lie, but instead of commenting, he simply clasped his hands behind him and inclined his head at her respectfully. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, no longer as warm or familiar as he had been. "Perhaps you should rest."

"I think so," agreed Narcissa reluctantly. "Thank you for the dance. It was wonderful."

"Likewise," he said to her.

Narcissa hesitated, one last selfish instinct screaming at her to remain, to tell Lucius that she felt fine, and that she would dance with him all night if he wanted. However, Narcissa pushed away that cruel voice and instead ducked out of the ball and into the corridor.

Once she was out of sight of Lucius, Narcissa balled up her fist and bit her knuckles in frustration. She was SO close! But there was no time to waste now. Grabbing her cloak, Narcissa wrapped it around her shoulders and hurried down the steps, quickly finding the double-doors to the outside courtyard. She pulled up her hood, but it did little to shield her when she stepped out into the bracing winter night.

"Bloody hell!" she hissed to herself. Biting snowflakes dotted her face in painful bursts, and the wind was positively howling. Her flowy robes, so lovely indoors, were now her enemy, pushing and pulling at her like angry claws and dogging her every step as she trudged out into the snow. White powder pushed at her ankles, climbing higher with every passing moment, but Narcissa forced herself to keep going.

Moving as quickly as she could, Narcissa made it to the hedge maze and looked around desperately. Her eyelashes felt cold when she blinked, and she felt as though she could see the snow clinging to them. "Iain!" she called out, but the wind stole her voice away. Oh, Merlin, what if Corinne had gotten to him already? She thought of Iain tied up to the one of the Quidditch posts on a night just like this, and her heart cried out against the image.

No, she would NOT let that sort of cruel and unusual punishment befall him again.

Hurrying into the maze, Narcissa breathed heavily against the onslaught of winter as it tried desperately to push her down every moment. She listened hard, but she could not hear anything. This stupid maze! she thought. Pulling out her wand, Narcissa pointed it at one of the tall ivy walls.

" _Transpero_ ," she said.

The spell shimmered, and suddenly there appeared a translucent spot in the wall. When Narcissa strengthened the spell, it pushed through yet another wall, and another, allowing Narcissa a glimpse into each lane of the confusing structure. Several rows away, she spotted Iain, back up against the ivy and his chest heaving. "There!" Narcissa said to herself, turning and running quickly in Iain's direction.

However, when she finally got to the spot where she'd seen him, Iain was gone. She followed his footprints, which were rapidly becoming lost to the piling snow, and at last, she found him again, this time in the center of the maze.

Corinne and her friends had him cornered.

Iain had his wand out, and now his eyes were hard and focused, but it was three to one, and Corinne was a deadly duelist.

"Make him suffer!" Corinne snapped at one of her two friends, Crabbe.

With a cackle, Crabbe leaped forward and brandished his wand at Iain, but Iain snatched his wand arm, shoved it down and punched him in the jaw. Crabbe dropped straight to the ground, and Iain brought up his own wand again, expression tight.

"You want to try and make me suffer, too?" he asked Dolohov, who balked.

"Crabbe," snapped Corinne at her unconscious friend, "you let that filthy Mudblood do that to you? Are you a bloody wizard or aren't you?"

"I certainly am!" snapped Dolohov, poking out his chest. He didn't make the same mistake Crabbe did, and he stayed well out of arm's reach to hurl a curse at Iain, who dodged it and fired one back. Narcissa kept hidden around the corner as she watched, jumping back with a little shriek when one of the deflected curses struck the ivy wall near her. Fortunately, the others were too far away to hear her over the howling wind.

" _Expelliarmus_!" shouted Iain, and Dolohov lost his wand a split-second before Iain hit him with a Stunning spell. As soon as Dolohov dropped to the snow, Corinne let out a furious howl and began a brutal assault on Iain, who barely blocked her first curse and got knocked to the ground by the second one.

"Filthy – Putrid – Mudblood!" snarled Corinne between curses, which she laid on Iain one after the other with seemingly no effort at all. Iain jumped back up to block them, but it was quite clear that despite his rather easy defeat of Crabbe and Dolohov, he was no match for Corinne. She was too fast and too powerful, and in a matter of seconds, she disarmed Iain and his wand flew out of his hand, landing in the snow a few feet away.

He looked to Corinne, his eyes wide with panic.

Corinne flourished her wand and stepped forward. "CRUC – "

Narcissa pointed her wand from her hidden corner. " _Rigescunt Indeutae_!"

The snow beneath Corinne's feet turned to slick ice, and before she could finish the curse, her shoe jerked forward ungracefully and Corinne went flying through the air, only to land hard on her back with a shriek.

Iain's jumped back, startled, but then he looked up and spotted Narcissa peeking around the corner of the maze.  _Over here_ , she mouthed desperately, gesturing to him. Iain wasted no time. He snatched up his fallen wand and jumped over Corinne, who was struggling to stand again; then he darted around the corner with Narcissa, who snatched his hand and clenched his fingers in hers.

"Come on!" she told him, terrified. She could hear Corinne calling out from her spot, and she knew the other witch would be hot on their trail within moments. Together, Narcissa and Iain dashed through the maze as fast as they could, but the snow was making things very difficult for them, and the storm was growing in ferocity. Trembling with fear and the cold, Narcissa finally found the end of the hedge maze, but she could hear footsteps right behind them.

"We have to hide!" she told Iain breathlessly.

"Here!" Iain yanked them both over to a concrete fountain nearby, kicking away a crumbling stone and pulling Narcissa underneath the fountain with him. Below the fountain was an empty space that had once been its foundation, but was now hollow. It was here that Iain tugged Narcissa, enfolding her in his arms as they laid on their stomachs in the hidden spot, pressed right up against one another.

 _Oh, please_ , prayed Narcissa.  _Please don't let her find us._  If Corinne spotted them, they would have nowhere to go.

Behind her, Iain brought up Narcissa's cloak to cover her face. His entire body was freezing cold, and it seemed that he had come out with no cloak or anything. Still, he used it only to make sure Narcissa was shielded. They remained there, frozen in every sense of the word.

The crunch of footsteps on snow sounded nearby, and Narcissa could hear Corinne's angry commands to her friends, both of whom had now recovered. "Where is he?" she hissed. "He was only just ahead of us!"

Narcissa pulled back as far away from the snowy ground as she possibly could. If Corinne thought to check their area, she would have to look closely to see the hollow space beneath the fountain where they were huddled. However, she could still find it if she looked hard enough.

Iain's hands closed over Narcissa's, though for warmth or comfort, she wasn't sure.

Shaking violently, Narcissa could only wait as Corinne's footsteps grew nearer. "I know you're out here, Mudblood," she purred. Corinne's shoes came into view, and Narcissa clenched her eyes shut. Iain's head tucked against her hair, and she could feel him shaking, too. "Where are you?"

Corinne hesitated near their spot. Narcissa and Iain dared not breathe.

Just then, another voice sounded. "Corinne," it called, and Narcissa recognized it as Lucius's. "What on earth are you doing out here?" he asked.

The direction of Corinne's shoes changed. "Mudblood hunting," she told him, before adding snippily, "Shouldn't you be inside, flirting with that little blonde bitch you like so much?"

Lucius shifted uneasily in his spot. Narcissa could see his shoes now, too.

"It was just one dance, love," he told her. "She's only a foolish girl."

"Only a foolish girl who would drop to her knees for you if given half the chance," snapped Corinne. "I leave for ten bloody minutes, and you're already looking for some replacement."

"Hardly," said Lucius, and the two pairs of shoes were now standing quite close. "You're overreacting, darling. I was bored, that's all. The stupid little girl means nothing to me."

Narcissa lowered her eyes from her spot, but she dared not move or speak.

"Truly," went on Lucius. "You have nothing to worry about. That simpering little child is nothing compared to you. You are my future wife. You know this."

Iain squeezed Narcissa's shoulder.

"The future Mrs. Malfoy," said Corinne, sounding calmer. Their shoes were very close together, and Narcissa knew they must have been kissing. "That's right." After a pause, she added lowly, just loudly enough for Narcissa and Iain to hear, "Do not ever talk to that girl again."

To Narcissa's surprise, Lucius answered without hesitation, "Of course."

Corinne's shoes moved away from Lucius's. "Now, let me get back to my Mudblood hunting."

"Come, darling," said Lucius. "Let it go. It's freezing out here." He paused, before adding more quietly, "Besides, you'll have plenty of time to hunt Mudbloods later. Our new lord might even make it into a Triwizard sport."

At this, Corinne and Lucius both laughed. Narcissa shifted just enough to give Iain an odd look. He seemed baffled as well.  _New lord_? he mouthed to Narcissa with a questioning look. She shook her head. She honestly didn't know.

Finally, though, Corinne seemed to listen to reason, and she agreed to leave with Lucius. "I'll have to get the little rat later," she told Lucius. Together, they walked away.

It was nearly ten minutes before Narcissa felt it was safe to stick out her head. There was no trace of anyone outside. Crawling on her stomach until she was out from beneath the fountain, Narcissa held fast to the hood of her cloak and turned back to Iain to offer her hand again. He quickly took her hand in his and they hurried away from the main entrance to Hogwarts, feeling as though it would be safer to enter from another spot.

Once they were in the castle, Narcissa and Iain pulled themselves into a dark secluded corner, and Narcissa jumped into Iain's arms. "Dear god," murmured Iain, trembling, his arms tight around her. "Are you alright?"

"Me?" questioned Narcissa, looking up at him and pressing her cold hands over his face. "You're the one who needs to find a fireplace!" She tugged off her cloak and wrapped it around him instead. "Why on earth did you go outside without your own cloak?"

"They chased me out there," he admitted, his every bit of exposed skin paler than normal. Narcissa walked with him to their empty classroom, and as soon as the door was closed, she lit a fire and placed him in front of it. He seemed reluctant to let her go even a few steps from him, though Narcissa felt this was more because he feared for her safety than his own.

She sank to her knees next to him and let the warmth of the fire wash over them both. It made the cold even more painful for a few minutes, but they endured it together, until at last the stinging bits of ice were gone and the trembles had lessened.

"How did you know I was out there?" asked Iain, swallowing hard as he tried to force his body to relax.

"I saw you out of the window," said Narcissa, pulling the cloak tighter around him. Her eyes lifted to his. "And I saw Corinne coming after you."

"You came for me?" asked Iain in disbelief. "Even knowing it was Corinne and her friends out there? What if they had seen you?"

Narcissa bit her lip. "I couldn't just let them attack you," she murmured. Her fingers continued to fumble with the cloak, mostly because now that the painful cold had abated, other feelings were beginning to bubble to the front of her mind and heart.

Iain reached up and stilled her hand with his own long fingers. "Thank you," he told her, not taking his eyes off her. Narcissa watched him, her eyes wide and glassy, but she could not think of anything to say that did any justice to all the confusing feelings in her heart. After a moment, Iain said very softly, "I'm sorry you had to listen to Lucius Malfoy say those things about you. He was obviously just trying to appease Corinne."

Narcissa lowered her eyes. "It doesn't matter," she admitted, even though it did.

"Did you at least get to dance with him?" asked Iain.

Narcissa nodded. "I did," she said.

A pause. "How was it?"

Although still sad, Narcissa's lips quirked. "It was wonderful." Then she went on, without even thinking on what she saying, "But it wouldn't have been worth it, if you'd gotten hurt." She didn't know the words were true until she said them, but there they were, as earnest and honest as Narcissa had ever been in her life.

"S'alright," said Iain with a small smile. "I knew the risk."

Iain's hand remained on hers, and Narcissa lifted her fingers, sliding them between his own rough digits. Their hands linked in a strangely beautiful manner, unlike one another in nearly every way. Iain seemed to watch this with a distracted focus.

"Lucius is an idiot, you know," he said suddenly. Narcissa looked up in surprise, and she saw that Iain was watching her quite seriously. "To say those things about you, he must be a fool," said Iain. "He does not deserve you."

Narcissa swallowed tightly. "If that were true – if I were really so valuable – surely someone would have noticed by now." Her heart hurt.

Iain opened his mouth as if to speak, but even though Narcissa's inner-voice pleaded with him to say something, he simply closed his mouth and fell silent. When the sensations had returned to their limbs, they shifted to sit side by side with one another, silently grateful for their private haven.

* * *

Three days later, the majority of the Hogwarts students packed up their things and prepared to leave for Christmas break. As Narcissa had promised, she stayed behind, even though she was the only Slytherin to do so. She had already written to her sisters explaining that she would be at Hogwarts if they wanted to come and see her.

On the day the other students left, Narcissa watched from around the corner as Iain did his best to explain to Abigail while he had suddenly decided to stay at Hogwarts rather than return home for Christmas. Predictably, he was a terrible liar.

Narcissa did not have that problem. She could lie like a politician on trial.

Iain, on the other hand, seemed to be doing his very best to look unconvincing, and even Abigail was looking at him oddly. Finally, their conversation finished, and Abigail reached for Iain and pressed a kiss to his lips, which Iain accepted. Narcissa bristled in her spot. After that, Abigail picked up her bags and left with all the others, piling into the carriages that would take them to the train.

As soon as they were all gone, Narcissa emerged from her spot and came to stand next to Iain. Only a few Gryffindors and Ravenclaws remained with them, and they were all very young.

"Cheer up," Narcissa told Iain, who was still reeling from having to lie to his girlfriend. "We have the entire Christmas break ahead of us." When Iain looked over at her, Narcissa extended a hand to him. "And we have practically this entire castle to ourselves for the next two weeks," she added, meeting his gaze.

Iain looked over Narcissa's face before slowly raising his hand and taking it in his own. "Yes, we do," he said, never looking away from her.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Thank you all for sticking with this story! Hope you're prepared for a very entertaining chapter…

* * *

_I was a little nervous about staying at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays. I'd never done such a thing, and even more importantly, I had not even consulted my father before agreeing to it. However, I'd had no responses from him the entire term, so I could not be sure if he cared or not._

_At the moment, it was not important to me. My father was a far-off thought, as was the dark bleak house at Grimmauld Place. That wretched tomb was far more a prison than a home, and for the first time in my life, I had the chance to spend a holiday away from it all._

_My sisters had both agreed to visit me at Hogwarts, too. So, in truth, I had everything I cared about coming to me. I needed to go nowhere at all. I had my dormitory, which was the closest to a sanctuary I'd known in my life, and I had my sisters._

_And Iain, of course._

* * *

The first morning of the Christmas holidays, Narcissa awoke to a silent dormitory.

A little unnerved, she sat up in her bed and peered around the otherwise empty room, her eyes scanning each unused bed. Slipping out of her covers and putting on her slippers and house robe, Narcissa went to the lavatory and found it wonderfully free of bustling girls. Delighted, she took a long shower, combed out her hair at a leisurely pace, and then put on a set of rose red robes. Now that classes were officially done until the next term, Narcissa wasn't obligated to wear the boring black robes required by the school. Happily, she fixed her makeup, put on her real shoes and then hurried down the stairs.

Narcissa was the only Slytherin remaining at the castle, and it felt brilliant.

A few minutes later, Narcissa made her way into the Great Hall, only to see that all the remaining students and staff – no more than a dozen in total – were all seated at one table, rather than spread apart. Narcissa had never stayed at school over the holidays, so this was a bit strange to her. After a moment, she spotted Iain entering through the other doors. They caught each other's eyes, and after a pause, they both smiled.

Feeling giddy, Narcissa took a seat next to a first-year Gryffindor who kindly offered her a plate of biscuits. Iain took a seat directly across from her, and for the first time ever, they ate breakfast at the together. The experience was a strange one at first, and both Narcissa and Iain ate largely in silence while the much younger remaining students talked and laughed around them. At the head of the table, McGonagall shared some lesson ideas with Sprout, and Slughorn was next to her, going on to Dumbledore about a gift he'd received from a former student, someone who was now a big name in the Ministry of Magic.

Iain and Narcissa constantly looked to one another and snickered, each so overwhelmed at the simple breakfast they shared. Finally, when she could stand it no more, Narcissa looked up at Iain and they both grinned. Hurriedly, they finished their meals and left the Great Hall.

As soon as the doors were closed behind them, Iain grabbed Narcissa's hand, and they were off.

* * *

And so began the best Christmas holidays Narcissa had experienced to date.

The first thing they did was grab Iain's guitar from his dormitory, and then they sneaked into the music room on the third floor, where Narcissa chose a little drum and a tambourine. From there, they hauled their things up to the Astronomy Tower.

As soon as they were settled, Iain slung his guitar strap around his neck, struck a loud chord, and then began to play a familiar tune. " _Oh, yeah, I tell you something_ ," he sang happily, " _I think you'll understand! When I say that something – I want to hold your hand_!" Narcissa laughed and picked up her tambourine and danced all around him, uncaring of who heard them or what else was going on.

" _Yeah, you've got that something. I think you'll understand – when I say that something – I want to hold your ha-a-a-and!"_

They sang together, " _And when I touch you, I feel happy inside. It's such a feeling that my love – I can't hide! I can't hide! I can't hi-i-i-i-i-i-ide!"_

Down the staircase to the Astronomy Tower, McGonagall and Slughorn wandered up the steps, chatting amicably. However, when they rounded the corner and spotted Iain and Narcissa singing and dancing together, they exchanged knowing smirks and backed away without letting the teens know they were there.

Narcissa and Iain sang and danced on, blissfully unaware.

After that, they left the Astronomy tower, still singing, and they set off to explore every section of the castle. They ran across new passageways, which Narcissa shrieked all the way through ("It's bloody dark in here!"), and then they got lost and somehow ended up at the edge of the Forbidden Forest ("There are werewolves in there, you know." "Shut up!").

Once they were done with that, they went back to the castle under the darkness of night. Narcissa suggested they sneak into each other's common rooms, so first, she brought him to the portrait that covered the entrance to Slytherin's Common Room.

"We use a password," she told him, and Iain held up a hand.

"Wait! Let me guess," he said, before turning to face the portrait. "It's pureblood."

Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"No? Huh," said Iain, tapping his chin. "Oh! I bet I know – Murder!"

"No!"

"Genocide?"

"Try again."

Iain snapped his fingers. "No, wait. I've got it," he said confidently. He turned to face the portrait, sucked in a deep breath, and then hissed very loudly.

The portrait remained closed.

Narcissa thumped his arm, and he yelped. Then she faced the portrait. " _Interfecere_." The portrait swung open, and she made a haughty face. "Honestly." She stepped inside, and Iain followed her, snickering.

As soon as they were in the Common Room, Iain came to an immediate stop in the center of the ornate green rug, looking terrified. "Jesus Christ!"

"What?" Narcissa asked, laughing.

"It's creepy as hell in here!" exclaimed Iain, looking aghast.

Narcissa looked around. "Really?" she asked, surprised. "I've always found it to be quite cozy!"

"Narcissa, there are skulls on your fireplace mantle," Iain pointed out, being careful not to touch any of the emerald green furniture. Narcissa looked over where he pointed, and then she bound over, pointing at the center skull.

"Oh, yes! This here is Octurus Albarracin. He was the first ever Slytherin Head Boy," she proclaimed proudly, looking expectantly to Iain.

Iain blanched. "I feel like my skin is on fire," he deadpanned.

"Oh, it's not so bad," Narcissa said with a roll of her eyes. "You just need to get used to it."

"No thanks," said Iain. "Come on, I'm going to show you what a Common Room is supposed to look like."

With that, Iain led Narcissa out of the Slytherin Common Room and down to the halls near the kitchens, where they found a bunch of barrels stacked against the wall. Iain waved Narcissa back. "If you pick the wrong one or use the wrong rhythm, the lids will explode and cover you in vinegar," he explained, much to Narcissa's alarm.

With his wand, Iain tapped on the middle barrel of the second row, a peculiar little set of taps that seemed to correspond to something. When he was done, the barrel bounced aside and revealed a tunnel.

"This way," he said with a grin. Baffled, Narcissa climbed through the tunnel, and Iain came after her. After a few shuffling steps on her hands and knees, Narcissa emerged in a wide open room positively filled with colorful foliage. Every nook and cranny seemed to have some kind of potted plants, and they all seemed to lean in their direction, much to Narcissa's discomfort. Iain appeared behind her and straightened, a large smile appearing over his face.

"Well?" he said, practically bouncing. "Isn't it great?"

"You thought the _Slytherin_ Common Room was creepy?" said Narcissa in disbelief. "I feel like I've dropped into a Venus Fly Trap!" She edged away from one of the plants that leered near her. "How can you relax with all these bloody things watching you all the time?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," said Iain. "They're not _watching_ you." A vine-creature next to Narcissa snapped at the air right next to her, and she shrieked. "Well," amended Iain with a smirk, "not all of them."

Narcissa tried to flee, Iain insisted on bringing her further in, and he showed her every inch of the strange Hufflepuff room. It had high walls and round windows near the ceiling, which showed the line of earth and a hint of sky, currently dark and speckled in stars. Due to the season, a line of snow cut off some parts of the windows, which Iain told her were actually just level with the grounds outside.

"Our Common Room is actually a basement," he explained. "So our windows are very high because everything else on the other side of the walls is dirt, just like yours is the lake."

Nodding, Narcissa examined the yellow furniture, the light wooden accents, and the many bright ornaments all around the room. There were tall bookcases, just like in Slytherin, but instead of being punctuated by macabre porcelain figures and skulls, Hufflepuff's shelves were full of yet more potted plants, little bird cages, colorful pieces of art and much more. Whereas the Slytherin furniture was emerald velvet or black leather, Hufflepuff's room was accented in Cherrywood chairs and soft, fluffy yellow couches.

Slytherin's walls were rough stone tinged in green, but Hufflepuff had warm wood and many large carvings that were made to resemble trees. The lamps Narcissa was accustomed to, hung by chains and containing a blue-green tint like the lake just nearby, were gone from this place. Instead, Hufflepuff was lit with circular lamps in bronze holders attached to the walls every few paces. There was also a fireplace blazing with heat, just like in Slytherin. However, instead of a portrait above its mantle (Slytherin's had a serpent there), it instead had a massive circular clock with a curved 'H' in the center.

"How very Hufflepuff," she proclaimed at last, laughing.

Iain grinned and fell onto a couch. "It's even better during the day, when the sun is shining in from the windows," he told her, and Narcissa dropped onto the couch with him. "I'll have to show you tomorrow," he said. "It's really something."

"So this is your domain," mused Narcissa with a knowing smile, stretching out on the couch beside him. Looking around, she realized that – although the room was certainly odd and not to her tastes – she liked it because it reminded her of Iain. In that silly plant-filled room, she felt as if she were surrounded by him. It was nice. "Oh," she said, sitting up. "I want to see the girls' dormitories! Come on!"

She moved to run up the stairs, but Iain balked at the bottom. "I can't," he told her. "Boys can't go up the girls' stairs. The steps will disappear."

Narcissa stopped on a step and turned slowly, folding her arm across her chest and giving Iain a daunting glare, eyes narrowed.

"Ahem," said Iain, flashing an innocent grin, "or so I hear."

* * *

The debauchery continued, of course. A few days into their holiday, the pair waited until dark and then sneaked their way into Slughorn's office so they could steal from his liquor cabinet, which unfortunately turned out to be guarded by an actual gargoyle.

"ARGH!'" screamed Narcissa at the top of her lungs when it lunged at them, but her shout was drowned out by Iain's even louder screech, which was cut short when he jumped forward, snatched up an armful of liquor and then hauled tail out of the office, leaving Narcissa alone.

"YOU PRAT!" shrieked Narcissa with a stomp of her foot, just before Iain swung back, grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the office.

The next night, they took all the liquor to a hiding place in the greenhouse outside, uncorked a bottle of Firewhiskey and proceeded to get properly obliterated, which left them both giggly, silly, and utterly unable to complete a step or a sentence. Unfortunately, they now had to make their way back into the castle, which was quite the task considering both of them could barely walk.

"And just where have you two been?" asked Slughorn, finding them just as Narcissa almost crashed into a suit of armor. They'd been trying to get back to their dormitories for nearly twenty minutes, but they kept getting lost and going in circles because they were each too drunk to remember where they were going.

"Professor Slughorn!" piped up Iain a little too gleefully. "We were just – goin' to – our – houses."

"Yes!" shouted Narcissa even though Slughorn was a mere two feet away, "Going to the – snake - place." Iain burst out laughing while Slughorn rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I certainly hope you two are aware," said Slughorn, "that you are not permitted to bring outsiders into your Common Rooms. Not even on holidays!"

"Don't worry, Professor," slurred Iain. "I don't want to go in the Slytherin Common Room anyway. It's scary in there." At Slughorn's glare, he continued innocently, "Or… so I hear."

Narcissa started laughing wildly, and Slughorn sighed again before taking her robe collar and tugging on her lightly. "To bed, Miss Black. And you, too, Mister Stuart. _Now_."

"Yes, sir," managed Iain, before he took an overly-cautious step forward, wincing when empty liquor bottles in his bag clanked loudly.

Slughorn looked heavenwards, perhaps praying for divine intervention.

"Twenty points from Slytherin AND Hufflepuff!" he barked at last, before hauling Narcissa away. Iain only made it three more steps before Sprout appeared, and Narcissa could hear him yelping all the way down the corridor, where he was apparently being led by the ear.

* * *

Despite Slughorn's warning, Narcissa and Iain spent much of their time in the Hufflepuff Common Room, taking their meals from the Great Hall and sequestering themselves away to eat alone and laugh. They listened to the radio, sang, danced, read, and sometimes just talked. Sprout and Slughorn checked on them only rarely, and for the most part, they were allowed to do as they wished.

Narcissa reveled in every minute of it. Alone in their Common Room, they were able to – more or less – play house. They lounged on the sofas, lazy and content like old cats, and they played games and laughed. They sneaked more food out of the kitchens and ate it in front of the fireplace before leaving to go journey outside, where they played in the snow and worried not a bit about anyone seeing them.

The best part was all the time they had to simply talk.

On the fourth night of their holiday, Iain and Narcissa pulled all the couch cushions down to the floor and covered them with blankets and pillows right in front of the fireplace. Together, they reclined on the cushions, socked feet dancing just in front of the fire's warmth, and they talked about anything and everything.

"Your knuckles are cut," Narcissa noted as they lay next to one another in the dimness of the room. The hour was late, and Narcissa reveled in the comfort she felt, piled up in the blankets and pillows with no one to bother them, just her and Iain. She picked up Iain's hand and smoothed her fingertips over his, completely at ease. Iain gently twisted his hand in hers. His other arm was behind his head, and they both faced the ceiling.

"Aye, thas' from when I punched Crabbe in the face on the night of the winter ball," he said.

"All of that was so frightening," mused Narcissa, running her fingers over his, examining their differences. "I can't believe you hit him. I'd never imagine you hitting anyone."

"Well, I don't make a habit of punching people, no," he said, chuckling. "But I can, if I have to. My older brothers made sure of that."

"They taught you to fight?" asked Narcissa.

Iain shifted his head to look over at her, his lips quirked. "More like, I had to fight or get my arse kicked. I told you they were mean." He looked back up at the ceiling. His fingers played comfortably in hers, their hands raised between them. "Any time I had to drag them out of pubs or stop them from wrecking the house, they'd jus' turn on me."

"That's terrible!" Narcissa frowned.

"Aye, they're bastards." He gave her his trademark smirk. "Still, I guess I should thank them. Comes in handy, knowing how to deal with jackasses like them." He tilted his head, this time looking at their hands. "What're you even doing?" he asked, laughing.

Narcissa grinned. She was just playing with his hand, examining it through both touch and sight. "Nothing," she said. "Look at how small my hand is compared to yours."

"Mmhm," he said, turning her hand and pressing her fingers up so he could see her palm in the low lighting of the fireplace. "Small and soft. Don't think I've ever met anyone who so obviously has never done a day of hard labor in their life."

Narcissa pulled her hand away and thwapped him in the chest, making him laugh. "I can't help it I'm not some common drudge!" She flopped against their cushion-pallet. "My hands are made for more delicate tasks. As are my immaculate fingernails, thank you very much."

The pair fell quiet for a few moments, listening to the crackling fire. After a few minutes, Narcissa turned on her side to face him. She loved how close it made her feel to him, how sinfully familiar they were. "What did you tell Abigail your reason for staying at Hogwarts for the holidays was?"

Iain glanced over at Narcissa, making a face. "I told her I … needed some time away from home," he admitted. "I don't think she bought it. I'm a bad liar."

"Oh, I know," said Narcissa. "You're awful. Honestly, you're the Huffliest Puff who ever Huffled a Puff. She definitely didn't look like she believed you."

"What – How do you know that?" he asked incredulously.

"Because I was spying on you."

Iain dropped back against the cushions and tried not to laugh. Narcissa loved it when he was trying to be stern with her, but failing. "Narcissa, you shouldn't spy on me. Especially not with Abigail."

Narcissa shrugged the shoulder that wasn't against the blankets. Iain could tell her all day not to do something, but if she didn't feel like it was really hurting him, she'd probably do it anyway. Iain seemed to sense this, and he rolled his eyes at her. "Narcissa…" he said warningly.

"Do you and Abigail go all the way?"

Iain gaped at her before slapping a hand over his face. "Narcissa!" he admonished in that tone he reserved specifically for her many indiscretions. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I want to know, obviously," said Narcissa, as if Iain were very slow.

"'Cissa…"

"I would tell you," Narcissa pointed out.

This made Iain pause, and at last, he rolled onto his back again. "Alright, fine. No, we haven't, and we won't. Abigail is very strict about that sort of thing."

Narcissa tried not to show her relief, but it threatened to show in her smirk. She moved on to her back again, too, her gaze on the ceiling. "And you're alright with that?"

"Of course," said Iain.

"And you'd be alright if she WANTED to shag you?"

Iain exhaled. "I feel like I'm being led into a trap."

"Oh," said Narcissa matter-of-factly, "you are, yes." She looked over at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and Iain pursed his lips to hide a smile and shook his head at her.

"Then I refuse to answer further."

"Smart boy," said Narcissa. After a few seconds of silence, she continued more quietly, "I haven't done that. I've only kissed a few boys." She sighed. "Wizards can do that sort of thing all they want, and no one cares. But if a witch does it before marriage, and her husband finds out, he can completely discredit her. It doesn't matter if he did it, too. It's always the witch's fault. She's always the whore."

Iain looked over, brows furrowed. "Really?" he asked, frowning.

Narcissa folded her hands over her stomach and examining the square section of ceiling directly above her. "Yes," she said with a soft sigh. "Plenty of girls still do it, of course, but they have to be very, very careful. If the wrong people find out, they'll never get a good match. That's why I have to be extra cautious. Marriage is my only way out of my father's home. I can't afford to mess it up."

Iain thought about this for a little while. Then he asked, "Can witches and wizards get divorced? If they need to?"

Narcissa looked over at him. "They can, but only if the husband wants it. It's a scandalous affair. And the wizard can get re-married, but the witch never does. There's no law forbidding it… It's just that no one will take her. Divorce is only supposed to happen if there's some kind of flaw, or the wife has been disloyal. So after one has been divorced, no one who cares for their reputation will take her. It's a deeply wounding thing to do to someone, to divorce them."

When Iain remained silent and thoughtful, Narcissa scooted a little closer. "Sometimes, I wish… I think – perhaps if divorce had been okay, my mother might have done that. Left my father, and perhaps moved on with her life. Then maybe…" Narcissa's eyes lowered. "Then maybe she wouldn't have chosen as she did… perhaps life would have seemed worth it to her, if she'd had options." She bit her lip. "I don't know."

A hand reached between them, and Iain gently touched Narcissa's chin, lifting it up.

"Perhaps she would have," he agreed quietly. "But the most important thing you can learn from her is that _you_ have options, Narcissa. Please don't ever let yourself get bound to a hateful person like she was." His thumb stroked the line of Narcissa's jaw. They were so close already, but Narcissa wanted so much to be closer.

"I don't want to be like her," admitted Narcissa in a whisper. "I want to be with someone I love. And who loves me."

Iain swallowed. "I hope – I hope you are," he said after a few seconds of difficulty.

Narcissa wished he'd come closer, that he'd take the hand that hovered near her jaw, barely brushing her neck, and use it to tug her up against him. There seemed to be a conflict in his eyes, and being so near him, Narcissa could read it clearly.

Then he pulled away. "We should probably get to sleep," he said, shifting back. Narcissa felt her warmth and comfort go with him. Saying nothing more, Narcissa stood, straightened her robes, put on her shoes, and then she let Iain walk her back to Slytherin, because he didn't like the idea of her going alone.

* * *

The days went on too quickly, and from sunrise to curfew, Narcissa and Iain were together. One of them would always sneak down to breakfast first, grab food for both of them and then duck into the other's common room.

Narcissa loved getting breakfast for them, and she felt a strange pride in having it all neatly prepared and arranged when Iain came sleepily down the stairs from the dormitory. He was always so delighted to see her, as if he hadn't expected her to arrive, even though she always did.

It felt like the entire castle was their home together, and this place in particular was theirs, a space they could occupy without the watchful eyes of anyone (except the terrifyingly aware plants). One of those mornings, Iain came downstairs just as Narcissa was preparing the tea she'd gotten from the Great Hall.

As soon as she saw Iain, though, she shrieked and covered her eyes, turning away with a flush. "Iain!" she exclaimed, scandalized. "You're in your underwear!"

Iain balked behind her, and through the spaces between her fingers, she saw him look confusedly down at his apparel. "Wha'?" he asked, his hair still messy from sleep. "No, I'm not," he said, grinning. "I'm wearing a t-shirt and shorts!"

Narcissa's entire neck turned red, though it was more than embarrassment that claimed credit for the heat there. Other feelings could have easily taken responsibility for the warmth that spread through Narcissa at that moment, a heated pulse she dared not act on.

"Merlin's beard, I can see your arms and legs!" she managed after a few seconds, still shielding her eyes, even as she felt a hysterical giggle bubble in her throat. "You're practically naked!" Even as she said this, Narcissa peeked again through her fingers and saw Iain staring at her in wonder before he laughed fully, nearly bent over.

"Okay, okay, hang on…" he said, digging around behind the couch before he found a house robe and wrapped it around himself, tying it loosely. At last, Narcissa lowered her hand, even though she was still blushing. As Iain secured the robe around himself, Narcissa found herself already missing the entirely improper sight of him in his so-called "t-shirt and shorts," whatever that meant.

A few weeks before, Narcissa had teased Iain, calling him scrawny. He'd adamantly informed her that he was tall and lean, but he wasn't scrawny. Narcissa hadn't believed him, but then again, she'd only ever seen him in his robes. Now she had discovered that he was quite right; Iain wasn't scrawny at all, but actually much more muscular than she'd realized. She could tell just by the view of his arms and the outline of his torso under the thin fabric of his simple white t-shirt, the collar of which was still visible to her.

"Seriously, though," he said, taking a seat next to her and picking up a glass of pumpkin juice. "These are just normal Muggle clothes. I wear these out in public all the time at home."

"Really?" asked Narcissa, unable to decide how she felt about that. Shocked, certainly, but also fascinated. "How strangely immodest Muggles are!"

Iain smirked at her, looking stupidly adorable with his rumpled hair. Sometimes Narcissa just wanted to smother him with a pillow and be done with his distractions. She wondered if he found her distracting at all. It would be immeasurably embarrassing if she found that Iain never gave her a second glance, when she felt now as if eyes sought him out every moment of every day.

At the very moment Narcissa thought this, she looked up and caught Iain watching her, that pleased little look on his friendly features. As soon as Narcissa caught his gaze, his hazel eyes flickered and looked away, though his lips remained quirked.

Pleased, Narcissa ate her breakfast.

That day, the remaining students were allowed to journey to Hogsmeade for one special Christmas trip. For the first time ever, Narcissa and Iain got to enjoy the village together, and they certainly made the best of it. Arm-in-arm, the pair went from shop to shop, pushing each other away when they ducked into shops to search of Christmas gifts. They also had butterbeers to drink and bought loads of candy before parting to shop for one another.

"Look," said Narcissa when they rejoined. "I got this for Bella, and this for Andromeda. Isn't it pretty?"

"What's in that bag there?" asked Iain, and Narcissa yanked it away, laughing. "Show me!" said Iain, trying to take the bag from her, and the two ended up tangling in the snow just outside of Honeydukes. The wrestling match ended with Iain hauling Narcissa up in his arms, causing her to shriek and giggle like mad. Tipping her back like he might drop her, Iain dangled her over the snow.

"Are you going to tell me what you got me for Christmas?" he asked tauntingly, and Narcissa slapped her hands over her own mouth, trying not to scream or suffocate from laughter.

"No!" she declared, and Iain pretended like he was going to drop her into a pile of snow. Narcissa responded by jumping up and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself tight against his torso. Snickering, Iain righted her in his arms again and held her there for a few seconds. The two paused and looked over each other's faces breathlessly. Down the snow-covered path, a clock chimed at two in the afternoon. The carriages back to Hogwarts would be leaving soon.

Narcissa looked up at Iain's face, her laughter shifting into a gentle smile. Iain's eyes scanned her face, a softness reflected there that she cherished. Finally, he lowered her to the ground again, a unique flush to his cheeks. A few minutes later, McGonagall called to them both, and they headed back to the carriages together, shoulder to shoulder.

* * *

Two days later, Narcissa and Iain went down to the boathouse on Black Lake, the one where the boats that carried the first-years to Hogwarts were kept. The lake was icy but not yet frozen, so Iain untied one of the boats and stepped into it first before holding out his arms for Narcissa.

Excited, Narcissa stepped cautiously off the dock and into Iain's strong arms, letting him guide her into the rocky boat. The structure trembled a little under their shifting weight, and Iain tugged Narcissa close to him, wrapping his arms tight around her to make sure she didn't fall. For a moment, the two paused and looked at one another, their faces close. Their breaths came out in soft white puffs, and they lingered very close to one another. Narcissa wondered if Iain could feel her heart pounding through their thick coats.

"Better be careful," murmured Iain at last, his eyes locked on hers.

Narcissa bit her lip, wanting to respond – or to move even closer, if possible – but Iain stepped back and carefully helped Narcissa find her seat in the small boat. Both flushing, the two teens settled into the boat, and then Iain grabbed the oars and pushed them out of the boathouse and onto the frost-tipped lake.

The hour was close to midnight, and they were supposed to be inside the castle. Instead, the pair glided out over the open lake, with only the stir of water against the oars making the slightest bit of noise. Once they were out of the boathouse, the dark night sky opened up to them, and Narcissa tipped back her head so she could feel the cold stinging wind against her skin. Her eyes scanned the stars she loved so much, and she leaned back further, balancing on her hands. The air felt wonderfully crisp in her lungs, and she inhaled deeply, loving the way the world felt around her in that moment.

Her eyes closed for a moment, and she concentrated on the slow shifting of the oars in the water, the sensation of being pulled along on a wide open field of glassy surfaces and muddled reflections. When she opened her eyes again, she found Iain was watching her as if entranced.

A slow smile spread over her face, and Iain's features melted to match it with a smile of his own.

"I want to try," said Narcissa, pointing to the oars.

"You sure?" he asked. "I can row for us."

"No, I can do it," said Narcissa with determination. "Show me."

After a moment, in which Iain's eyes scanned Narcissa's face thoughtfully, he smiled and sat back further in the boat. He gestured for her to take his seat. "Sit with your back to me," he instructed, and Narcissa shifted carefully, moving spots until she was in his old seat. Behind her, she felt Iain scoot closer again, and his warmth enveloped her from a place she could not see. Iain's gloved hands placed the oar handles in her own grips, and he shifted her fingers until they were in a good spot.

"S'not hard," he said quietly behind her. "Jus' keep a firm grip."

Narcissa turned her head just a little, Iain's face barely visible in the corner of her eyes. She could not help seeking him out, especially when he felt so close, and yet she could not look at him. Iain's hands prompted her to move her oars, so she did, finding it a little harder than she'd imagined.

"You don't have to push them so deep," Iain instructed softly. His front was very near to her back, and she thought she felt his knees brush her sides. "Just skim the surface."

Feeling a bit breathless, Narcissa nodded and adjusted her grips. The rowing came easier to her after that, but Iain didn't let go of the handles, instead keeping close and helping her maintain the motion, nice and steady.

After a few strokes, Narcissa leaned back further until she felt the solid warmth of Iain's chest against her back. She waited to see if he would move away, but he didn't. Instead, Iain seemed to lean closer, and because he still had his hands on the oars, he seemed to surround her entirely.

The sensation that washed over Narcissa as this happened one of complete and total peace, the likes of which she had never felt in her life. Iain felt secure around her, and his presence at her back was a welcome shelter. Even so, Narcissa's pulse jumped at his nearness. It was equal parts comforting and terrifying, having him so close.

She could not afford to evaluate her feelings then, and so she didn't. Instead, she looked up at the dark sky and imagined there was no world outside their small vessel. That brought her peace once more, and the only thing that existed in Narcissa's peace was the contentment that came from being so close to Iain.

She closed her eyes; it was very possible that Iain knew nothing of her feelings, her conflict. He could be sitting there behind her, wondering about homework or the holidays or even Abigail, his girlfriend. Narcissa tried not to think about this, but she couldn't help it. The rare harmony that touched her in that moment felt heartbreakingly fragile. All she wanted to do was enjoy this moment on the lake, with a beautiful night sky looking down on them and not a soul to disturb their sanctuary.

Oh, how she wanted to preserve this moment.

A noise caught Narcissa's attention, and she realized Iain had tugged the oars from her hands and shifted them until they sat on the edges of the boat, which drifted aimlessly in the center of the lake expanse of jet-black water. All she could see of Iain was a hint of his jawline, the ends of his arms, covered in the sleeves of his coat. But once the oars were settled, Iain brought his hands back – slowly, cautiously – to Narcissa. Not a word was said as he settled them loosely at her sides, against her coat but not wrapped around her, as she wished for them to be.

So Narcissa extended her small hands and touched Iain's, gently prompting them closer. It took little persuasion for Iain's arms to move and close around her fully, and Narcissa felt security like she'd never known when Iain's embrace locked around her, enveloped fully.

His warmth at her back, his chin on her shoulder, his arms secured around her torso. It was the most marvelous feeling Narcissa had ever known, and in the cold winter night, gliding there on the lake, Narcissa knew what it meant to feel safe.

Not only safe, she thought, but cared for.

They both seemed too afraid to speak, as if doing so would break the spell that protected them. For a long time, over an hour past curfew, they drifted there without a direction, without any guidance at all. They'd accidentally gotten lost before, while wandering the tunnels of the school, but now they cherished their aimlessness.

It was finally Iain who spoke up, his face very near hers, his chin on her shoulder.

"I think I should break up with Abigail," he told her quietly. He looked not at Narcissa, but at the wide open surface of the lake. Narcissa barely breathed.

"Why?" she asked in a murmur, gaze straightforward. "You're not doing anything wrong."

Iain waited several moments before answering. At last, he whispered, "In my heart, I am."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Thank you so much for your support. It truly makes my life better.

* * *

_After that night on the lake, something seemed to change in Iain. He kept physically further from me than ever before, although his attitude remained essentially the same. We continued our whimsical time, our escape from reality. We played games and lazed about and read and sang songs. We sneaked into the kitchens to eat ice cream, and we spent the milder nights outside, lying on the snow and looking up at the stars. Sometimes, we sat in silence next to one another, simply enjoying each other's presence. It felt as though our thoughts were intertwined, and there were moments when we'd look at one another and laugh for no reason at all._

_But Iain still kept his distance from me, smiling the same as always, but no longer sitting right next to my side, or taking my hand in his._

_I tried to convince myself I was imagining things, but as the days passed, I asked myself the same question more and more often: what was he so afraid of?_

_I knew the answer, but I would not speak it. Not even to myself._

* * *

"Our housemates are going to be quite confused," commented Narcissa on Christmas Eve.

Iain looked over at her. "Confused? They're going to be bloody raging!" The two peered up at the Slytherin and Hufflepuff counters. "We've lost nearly fifty points a piece!"

"Honestly," said Narcissa as the two turned away, "I think McGonagall was overreacting for that last bit. I mean, how were we supposed to know Professor Binns got trapped in the trick stair while following us? He was only in there for three days."

Iain snickered.

"Plus," went on Narcissa, "he's a ghost! It's not like he has anything _but_ time."

The pair paused and looked up at the giant Christmas tree seated in one brilliantly decorated corner of the Great Hall. The area was positively alive with Christmas, and the tree was its beautiful centerpiece, artfully decorated all the way to its tall peak.

"Don't forget," said Narcissa softly to Iain, who looked over at her. "My sisters are coming to see me for Christmas tomorrow." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry you won't be able to join us," she admitted, sighing. "I feel terrible that you're spending Christmas day alone." She really did. How lovely it would be if Iain could join them, and all would be peaceful and well.

Iain shrugged, his lips quirked in his easy smile. "I don't mind, really. I'll just sleep in. And besides, we'll see each other that evening, aye? It'll be great." He beamed at her, and Narcissa felt herself return the smile much against her own will. However, her smile wavered when she noticed him quite casually taking a step away from her. This carefully maintained distance made Narcissa feel quite put out. Scowling inwardly, she turned away from Iain and looked up at the tall Christmas tree. Then she tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"Oh! I want that one there – the corner, you see?" She was pointing to a candy cane, just as she had every day for the last week. It was always up to Iain to retrieve it for her because he was taller, but this time, the red and white striped candy was out of his reach, too.

"Wha – Why that one?" asked Iain. "It's nearly at the top!"

"It's the best looking one," said Narcissa, pouting.

Making a face, Iain pulled out his wand and tried to get the candy cane down with magic, but it was at an odd angle and too heavily concealed by branches. "Look," said Narcissa, after a quick glance around, "there's Professor Flitwick's ladder! Just go and – "

She stopped at the look on Iain's face, which held a flush of deep red and then an uncharacteristic look of embarrassment.

"Oh," Narcissa amended quickly, "what am I thinking? That's silly. You should be at the bottom to hold the ladder, and I'll go up."

"I can do it," Iain muttered, looking at the ladder almost fearfully. Narcissa quickly waved him off.

"No, no. You're stronger, you should be there to make sure it doesn't fall. Here, hold it for me." Narcissa tugged the ladder over, and Iain took his place at the bottom, though he still looked self-conscious. When Narcissa started to climb, his anxiety only seemed to grow.

"Be careful," he told her. "Don't go too fast."

Narcissa slowed down for Iain's sake, although she was hardly afraid to go up a twelve-foot ladder. Once she was at the top, she got her candy cane and then one more for Iain before she turned and carefully came back down. Iain seemed to refuse his right to breathe until she was nearly at the bottom. Once she was three steps from the ground, Narcissa shot him a devious smile and waved a hand near her forehead.

"Oh, no!" she cried out dramatically. "I'm going to fall! You'd better catch me, Iain!"

This finally made Iain smile again, even though his cheeks were still rosy. "You'd better not," he warned her. "I'm not looking, Narcissa!"

Narcissa loosened her grip on the ladder, leaning far out. "Oh – oh, dear – I'm slipping!" She began to giggle, and Iain laughed, holding out his arms so that Narcissa could fall lightly into them. He quickly set her on the ground, though his grip lingered, his eyes on her face. Narcissa barely contained a satisfied smirk, knowing she'd finally made him hold her again. It had only been two days since that night on the lake, but she had sorely missed his easy and comfortable touch. He hadn't so much as brushed against her skin in the last forty-eight hours, but now his arm lingered at her waist, his face close to hers.

Until he pulled away very suddenly, clearing his throat a bit.

Narcissa pursed her lips and made a face, but her sour look quickly disappeared. Instead, she bound up next to Iain and offered him the other candy cane, which he accepted with a gentle smile.

* * *

That evening, Narcissa and Iain parted ways, and Narcissa slept in her bed in an empty dormitory until she awoke on Christmas morning. Quickly, she rose and showered, getting dressed in a pair of soft ruby red robes and brushing out her hair. Then she rushed down to the dining hall and gathered up a breakfast, which she arranged on a tray with a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

Before her sisters could arrive, Narcissa took the tray of food down to the Hufflepuff Common Room, let herself in using the trick Iain had shown her, and then carefully arranged everything in the Common Room so it would be there when he woke up.

She wouldn't get to see him for hours, but he should know she thought of him.

 _Happy Christmas,_ she wrote on a little card, which she left on the trey. After taking a moment to admire it, she left the Hufflepuff Common Room and went back to the Great Hall, where the other few remaining students were already gathered for breakfast. Narcissa only had to wait a few minutes for the doors to open and reveal two of her favorite people in the world – Andromeda and Bellatrix Black.

"Cissy!" cried out Andromeda, rushing forward to sweep Narcissa into a hug. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

Narcissa clung to her sister, doing her very best not to cry. She'd missed Andromeda desperately, and she had not seen her once since they'd parted ways at the platform before start of term. That day at the train station felt like a lifetime ago.

After pulling away from Andromeda, Narcissa turned to Bellatrix, who watched with her usual dark features. She did not rush to Narcissa, as Andromeda did, but when Narcissa faced her, she held out her arms. Narcissa jumped into them and hugged Bellatrix tightly. Her oldest sister patted her head twice in response.

"I'm so glad you're both here," said Narcissa, pulling them over to the table. They sat further away from everyone else and the banquet of breakfast food appeared. "Have you – have either of you heard from Father…?"

Bellatrix and Andromeda exchanged looks; Andromeda looked concerned. Bellatrix looked bitter.

"He has not visited me at school or written to me," admitted Andromeda, "though I do expect that he'll come to me soon if Bellatrix continues to evade him."

The oldest Black sister's darkly painted lips quirked. Her features reminded Narcissa of smoke. "I have my own affairs to tend to," said Bellatrix, unconcerned. "I do not answer to his beck and call any longer. If he wants to find me, he'll have to track me down himself." She looked over the two younger girls. "And that would be very… very unwise of him. So I suggest neither of you give him any clues as to my whereabouts, yes?"

"Of course," agreed Narcissa earnestly. She would never lead their father to Bellatrix. That would only cause trouble for everyone. "But where…?"

"In a little while," said Bellatrix, sipping from her goblet.

Andromeda's brows furrowed, but they all let the subject drop, and instead, Andromeda filled the silence by asking Narcissa about school, recounting her etiquette lessons, and talking about a new book she was reading. Narcissa listened eagerly, knowing she was bound for the finishing school one day. How Bellatrix had gotten out of it and still secured a rich pureblood wizard to court her, she wasn't sure.

"Had any more trouble out of Corinne?" asked Bellatrix, grinning.

Narcissa huffed. "She's a bloody maniac," she told her sisters in a whisper. "She chased me out into a blizzard!"

"What? Why?" asked Andromeda, shocked.

Narcissa's expression flickered at a self-satisfied smile. "I might've – er, danced with Lucius Malfoy at the winter ball. And flirted a bit." At this, both of her sisters laughed, and Bellatrix in particular looked delighted. Narcissa giggled as well, though her amusement ended quite suddenly when she realized she hadn't even thought about Lucius Malfoy since the beginning of break. All her thoughts had been consumed by Iain.

Narcissa bit her lip and tried to cover up her sudden change in mood.

"Simply wonderful," said Bellatrix, still chuckling darkly. "I hope she was in a fit."

"She was," said Narcissa. "I really think she might hurt me if she gets the chance, Bella."

At this, Bellatrix's chuckled faded away, and she set her darkly rimmed eyes on Narcissa. A glint of something predatory reflected in her gaze. "I would kill anyone who dared touch you, sister."

Andromeda looked over at Bellatrix, her expression was difficult to read. After a moment, she reached over and touched Narcissa's hand. "None of the staff here will let anything happen to you, Narcissa. But maybe best to stay out of her way, yeah? She graduates this year. After that, you won't have to worry about her anymore."

"I hope not," murmured Narcissa, squeezing Andromeda's fingers.

The breakfast ended a few minutes later, and the three Black sisters retreated to a outside corridor that ran parallel to the Stone Courtyard. There, they found seats near an outdoor hearth, lit a fire, and exchanged gifts. Narcissa was delighted by her gifts from her sisters, a stylish beret and glove set from Andromeda and a vial of Felix Felicis from Bellatrix.

"A little liquid luck for you," Bellatrix told her with a sly wink. "Just in case…"

"Thank you," replied Narcissa, linking arms with both of her sisters. She gave them their gifts then, starting with a beautiful stationary set for Andromeda.

"It's gorgeous!" said Andromeda, hugging the lovely box of supplies to her chest. "I absolutely love it, Cissy."

Bellatrix opened her gift, and in it, she found a silver pocket-watch; her dark eyes twinkled with joy. Bellatrix had always enjoyed carrying pocket-watches, though what her fascination with time was, Narcissa couldn't say for sure. However, the other witches of their status had always told her that pocket-watches were masculine, and she should carry a more dainty time-piece, if she must. Bellatrix had always despised that; she had some sort of affinity for keeping time on a chain, and she did not give a damn whether it was "masculine" or not. When Bellatrix had been younger, she had carried an old one of their Father's that he'd left behind in his desk. However, she'd broken it right before leaving home when she'd hurled it into a wall.

This new pocket-watch had an elegantly scripted 'B' on the front, and as with most magical things, it held a hidden purpose. "The numbers invert," Narcissa told Bella of the enchanted watch, "when there's someone nearby who means to do you harm. It will help keep you safe."

Bellatrix actually smiled, showing her teeth. The expression looked manic on her features, and Andromeda looked at her like one might look at an unfamiliar dog as it approached them.

"Thank you, Cissy," purred Bellatrix, tucking the watch away. Once it was safely in her pocket, Bellatrix looked all around them to make sure they were alone. Then she leaned forward, and the other two witches curled near her. "Now… Do you want to know where I've been?"

Narcissa and Andromeda looked at one another and then back to Bellatrix. They nodded in unison.

Bellatrix flashed them both a feral grin and then reached with one hand to her left forearm, stroking down the length of it with her fingers spread. "I have been," said Bellatrix, looking wistful and faraway, "in the company of the greatest wizard who has ever lived." Looking back to her sisters, Bellatrix slowly pulled up her robe sleeve to reveal a jet-black image stained into her skin.

Andromeda and Narcissa both gasped. "Bella, is that a tattoo?" asked Andromeda. "Father is going to kill you!"

"It's not just a tattoo," Bellatrix snapped, before her voice became dreamy again. "It's a mark… His Mark." She stroked it, her lips curling in a smile. "And it means that I have been chosen for a most glorious purpose."

Narcissa's stomach twisted with anxiety. The mark on Bellatrix's arm with heavy with black ink, a long skull with a snake twisting around it. As Narcissa watched, the image seemed to pulse. She felt as though it had an essence, and the sheer strength of it was oppressive. She swallowed tightly.

"A purpose?" she asked, looking at her sister and trying not to show her fear.

"Yes," said Bellatrix, leaning close, her eyes dancing. "Little sisters, our new Dark Lord is preparing for great things, wonderful things… a new world, shaped in the perfect silhouette of purebloods." Her fingers curled over the mark on her arm, fingernails scraping into her skin. She did not even seem to know she was doing it.

"Imagine it, Cissy," Bellatrix whispered, her eyes locked on Narcissa's, "A world with _no_ Mudbloods."

"None? How is that possible?" asked Andromeda stiffly.

Bellatrix cocked her head in Andromeda's direction, and her lip curled. "Extermination, of course. Domination, total and complete control. We shall have it all, just like before, back when our world made sense. Purebloods will have all the power, and our family will be proud again, as it should be! All because of him – all because of Lord Voldemort."

"Lord Voldemort?" repeated Narcissa in a squeak. What a terrifying name.

"Yes!" Bellatrix gripped both of their arms, and the two younger witches jumped. Narcissa fought not to look at Andromeda or Bellatrix, because she knew her fear would read quite easily. Was this the "dark lord" Lucius Malfoy and Corinne had been referring to?

 _Our new lord might even make a Triwizard sport of it._ That was what Lucius had said… about Mudblood hunting. Narcissa's insides felt icy with fear. She did not like change; her anxiety could not handle it. And this…? Could it all be real? She fought not to think of Iain.

"I am one of his most trusted servants," Bellatrix told them both, her eyes wild. "And he has taught me so much, sisters… We will be unstoppable. And when the time comes, the entire magical world will know of us and our immense power." She released her painful grips on their arms, and she looked at Narcissa, reaching up to stroke her youngest sister's cheek. "Don't be afraid, Cissy. I know you don't share my strength. You're not a fighter. But that's alright… because I will make certain that your part in all this is fitting for you." She looked back at Andromeda, and her expression grew less tender. "Fitting… for both of you."

Narcissa's eyes drifted down to the mark again. She could feel it looking at her; it might've been the ugliest thing she had ever seen.

"Bella, I – "

"Don't you trust me, Cissy?" asked Bellatrix, her voice soft but not tender. She looked at Andromeda. "Don't either of you trust me? After all I've done to protect you?"

"Of course we do," murmured Andromeda. "We trust you and we love you."

Narcissa nodded in agreement, and she forced herself to smile. "Whatever you think is best, Bella."

The oldest Black sister gripped their hands again in a hard squeeze. "Good girls," she praised, her voice low.

* * *

Andromeda and Bellatrix left late in the afternoon after spending most of the day with Narcissa. Bellatrix did not seem to notice how quiet her two younger sisters were for the remainder of their time together, although Narcissa suspected she might not have cared. Whatever the case, Narcissa was secretly a little relieved when her sisters said good-bye and left Hogwarts.

As soon as the doors were shut behind them, Narcissa turned and hurried through Hogwarts, looking for Iain. She found him still in the Hufflepuff Common Room, laying around on one of the couches and playing with his guitar. The moment he saw her, his face lit up and he set the guitar aside.

Perhaps it was the fear from Bellatrix's words earlier, or simply the fact that she had not seen him all day, but Narcissa could not help throwing herself into his arms for a hug as soon as he was standing. "Hello to you, too," he said with a laugh, squeezing her tight before pulling away quickly. Narcissa fought the urge to stomp her foot in protest. _Hold me, you stupid oaf!_ she thought in a fit of temper. She could not say that, though.

Instead, she settled down with Iain on the floor in front of the fireplace, where their usual nest of blankets and pillows stayed. Oh, she was going to miss this when the term resumed. She didn't want other stupid Hufflepuffs to come back and ruin their special space together. This was for them.

"How was your visit?" asked Iain, reclining with his shoulder blades against the couch.

"It was fine," answered Narcissa, deciding not to mention what she'd learned from Bellatrix. She wasn't sure she wanted to tell all that to Iain, or if she did, not then. "They both gave me presents, and we got to spend a lot of time just talking. It was nice."

"Anything from your father?" Iain's fingers twitched, and he put them behind his head.

"No," said Narcissa with a sigh. "I suppose I won't hear from him. But it doesn't matter. My sisters are the only family I care for." After a moment, Narcissa shrugged and put a small smile on her face. "Anyway, I'm just glad to be here with you."

Iain's fingers seemed to twitch again behind his head, but he didn't move them. "I'm glad you're here, too." They both paused, a strangely full silence between them. Then Iain reached over and pulled out a beautifully wrapped box. "Ready for your present?" he asked with a grin.

Pleased once more, Narcissa clapped her hands together. "Oh, yes!"

"Happy Christmas," Iain told her, moving to sit cross-legged in front of her and gently handing her the gift. Narcissa knew she would love it no matter what, but Iain seemed a little nervous, so she made sure to smile at him as she opened it.

Inside the box was the most beautiful leather-bound journal Narcissa had ever seen. It had thick, well-made paper and a lovely leather cord wrapped around it. It also had Narcissa's name engraved at the bottom corner. "Oh, Iain… This is stunning!" said Narcissa, drawing her thumb over the warm material of the cover. The leather felt smooth and had the most wonderful smell.

At her genuine delight, Iain relaxed and reached over, touching the journal and turning it so that the spine faced up. "It has an enchantment," he told her. "Once you seal the journal with a drop of your blood, only you will ever be able to read what's inside. Everyone else will only see blank pages, no matter how hard they try."

Narcissa's lips parted in surprise.

"I know," said Iain softly, "you don't always have someone you can talk to about everything. You have so many wonderful things to say, and so few people in your life who can understand them. I guess – Well, I was hoping you could use this journal to finally … be honest. About anything, everything. And you never have to fear what someone will do or think, because your words will always be protected." He looked up at her, and Narcissa's heart swelled at the sight of his earnest features.

Oh, how many powerful things she felt about him. She did not think she could put it in words if she tried.

"Thank you," she whispered at last, tears pressing at the corners of her eyes as she hugged the journal to her chest. No one understood her like the wizard in front of her, and Narcissa did not know what to do about it. After a few seconds, Narcissa managed to calm her beating heart and set the journal aside.

"Here," she said. "Next yours." Tugging the rather large box out from hiding, she pushed it at Iain who gaped at it. "What on earth?" he asked. "Wait – Why is there a Chocolate Frog box on the top?"

"It goes with the gift," said Narcissa slyly. "You have to open it up first."

Iain raised a brow, plucking the Chocolate Frog box from the top of the present. After he opened it, he caught the chocolate frog, popped it in his mouth and then studied the box. "Seems like a normal box," he observed.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "You have to look at the card, of course! That's all anyone cares about."

"Oh," said Iain, pulling out the card. "I've collected these for years. I bet I have nearly all of them. So who is on this … " he stopped once he unveiled the card, and then he laughed, looking up at Narcissa with a perplexed expression. "Narcissa, why on earth is there a picture of _me_ on this card?"

"Read it and see!"

Chuckling, Iain turned over the card to read the back. "Iain Alasdair Stewart," he read from the back of the modified card, "is a … " He stopped again, this time choking back a surprised noise before he started again. "Iain Alasdair Stewart is a world-famous magical boat builder and ship designer who is known for his highly creative and unique vessels. Starting from modest beginnings as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Stewart went on to become the protégé of Aleksander Morikov, another famous ship builder who claimed Stewart was the best student he'd ever had. Stewart now operates his own business out of Scotland, where his boats are considered the best in all the known magical world."

"A glimpse of the future," said Narcissa softly from near his shoulder. Her eyes twinkled. "I'm quite good at Divination, you see."

Iain reached up and pushed a hand over his face, swallowing over a lump in his throat. Then he pulled the wrapping paper off his gift, which turned out to be a very fine and detailed model ship Narcissa had found in a catalogue. He laughed again, this time with a bit of a hiccup.

"Perhaps this one will float," he joked to Narcissa, his eyes shining. She leaned close from behind him and put her chin on his shoulder, smiling.

"The first of many," she whispered.

Iain shifted his head just enough to look at her, their faces very close. "Thank you," he murmured, setting the box aside slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He was so near her, it would take only the smallest of movements to close the distance between their lips. Narcissa could feel the heat from his body, the tension that filled the scant space between them. Oh, how she wanted him to kiss her. She could not even deny it now. She wanted it more than anything.

However, just when she thought he might do so – because how could he look at her like that and _not_ kiss her? – Iain pulled away, his eyes lowering and his body curling away from hers. Hot embarrassment flooded Narcissa's cheeks, and she pulled back as well. The touch between them was lost, and it left Narcissa feeling cold.

Together, the pair looked at the fire roaring in the hearth, and they said nothing for the rest of the night.

* * *

For the next few days, every interaction between Narcissa and Iain felt strange, uncomfortable. Narcissa hated it so much. She had never, ever felt at odds with Iain this way, as if neither of them could figure out how to simply be together. Thankfully, after a few days, Iain seemed to return more to his usual self. It did not make Narcissa feel much better, though; something was still amiss, and all Iain seemed to be doing was pushing it aside.

Ignoring those moments, those sensations – it felt cruel to Narcissa. But what could she do?

After a few days of awkward tension, she was ready to give it all up. So when Iain began acting normally again, she felt she had no choice but to move with him, as if that night on the lake had never happened. As if so many of these small moments had never occurred at all.

Together, they celebrated New Years Eve. When the clock chimed midnight, they both cheered. It was a new year.

_**1973** _

"Narcissa!" exclaimed Iain suddenly, halfway through the first day of the year. His excited shout was so sudden and jarring, Narcissa knocked over her pumpkin juice.

"Iain!" she admonished. "Goodness."

"Oh, sorry," he said, handing her a napkin over her lunch plate. They were both seated at the same table they'd been eating at all break. "I just had a great idea for something we can do before everyone else returns. Come on, hurry up. I don't want to tell you in here."

"Are we going to get in trouble again?" asked Narcissa, smirking.

Iain grinned. "Only if we get caught."

Rolling her eyes, Narcissa finished eating and left the Great Hall with Iain. "Okay," said Iain, "so… have you ever been in the Prefect's Bathroom?"

Narcissa laughed, startled. "What? No! I'm not a prefect. And neither are you, idiot!"

"Did you know it has a huge swimming-pool sized bath in it?" asked Iain, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Because it definitely does. And I happened to overhear one of the Hufflepuff prefects talking about the password right before he left…"

Narcissa made a disbelieving noise. "Surely you are not suggesting – "

"We can go swimming!" exclaimed Iain, practically rocking on his heels. "Come on, Cissa! When else would we ever be able to do this? There's no prefects here right now. No one will catch us!"

"I don't have a swimming suit!" pointed out Narcissa. "What on earth would I wear?"

Iain shrugged. "We can improvise."

Narcissa raised a brow, showing that she doubted this very much. Still, Iain seemed very excited about the idea, and it DID sound fun… Narcissa hadn't been swimming in so long, since she was a very little girl. And of course, Iain loved the water.

"Oh, fine," she said at last. "But if we get caught, I'm drowning you."

"Fair enough."

* * *

The next night, late in the evening after all the rest of the castle was asleep, Iain and Narcissa sneaked up to the fifth floor and entered the Prefect's Bathroom through the portrait, which accepted Iain's stolen password ( _lemony fresh)._ The room was truly amazing, with large stained-glass portraits of mermaids on the windows and scant lighting on the walls, creating tall walls of shadows. Night had fallen, so the large open room was dimly lit and every corner was dark. Once they were inside, Iain set to work filling the giant pool-sized tub, and Narcissa ducked into one of the stalls to change into what Iain had brought her to swim in.

Several minutes later, Narcissa shyly emerged from the stall. Iain had his back to her, bent over one of the many hundreds of faucets that surrounded the large pool. Standing uncertainly, her arms over her chest, Narcissa made a noise to grab his attention.

Rising from his spot, Iain turned to face her and visibly balked.

"Do I look odd?" asked Narcissa self-consciously. She stood in front of Iain wearing one of his dark-grey t-shirts, the sleeves of which hung nearly to her elbows, the bottom near the middle of her thighs. She also had a pair of his shorts on, though they only managed to stay up because of a drawstring. These, too, were large on her and stopped below her knees. All his clothes smelled like him, and the t-shirt was surprisingly soft. She felt strange, especially knowing she was wearing Muggle clothes, but she sort of liked it. The way Iain looked at her made her, though, made her question whether or not she looked utterly ridiculous.

"Ah," said Iain, clearing his throat and smiling at last. "No, no. You look fine."

"Are you sure?" asked Narcissa, tugging on her hair, which she had pulled into a low ponytail. It sat against one shoulder and partially covered the image on the front of the t-shirt, which read _THE ROLLING STONES_. "I feel so – strange!" She giggled, despite her anxiety.

At this, Iain laughed. "You don't look strange, I promise." He didn't take his eyes off her.

Flushing furiously, Narcissa wiggled under his stare for a moment. Then she squeaked and ran straight at the pool, jumping off the edge and into the water just so she could hide from him. She landed with a splash and then jumped up, laughing wildly as she pushed her wet hair off her face. She couldn't believe she was doing this, and suddenly, she felt quite exhilarated.

Iain snickered from his spot, and then he was next after her, kicking off his shoes and then – to Narcissa's complete shock – tugging off his shirt before he jumped in after her. Thank Merlin he was underwater and didn't hear the completely involuntary noise Narcissa made in response to his bare torso. As soon as he popped up in the water and pushed back his damp hair, Narcissa slapped her wet hands over her face.

"Iain! _Why did you take off your top_?" she shrieked, trying not to laugh.

"What?" asked Iain, confused before understanding dawned on him. "Oh, right – Oh, hell. I forgot, I'm sorry. I – What in the hell do wizards wear when they swim?"

"Swim tops!" Narcissa informed him, giggling like mad. She peeked between her fingers at him.

"Really?" asked Iain incredulously. "Muggles – well, I mean, Muggle men – they usually don't wear tops to swim. But here, I'll put mine back on – "

"No, no," said Narcissa, dropping her hands and trying desperately not to blush. "It's alright, really. I mean – er, if you normally swim that way – "

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he told her.

Narcissa bit her lip and tried to look confident. "No, I've – I've seen plenty of men without … tops on. Really." She tried desperately not to blush; she didn't want to seem immature, although she knew Iain well enough to know he wouldn't hold that against her. "Stay like you are." And alright, perhaps her reasoning was more about getting to watch him swim shirtless than anything, but whatever.

Without waiting for his response, Narcissa dove under the water and swam to the center of the pool. It took some practice to make her movements fluid again, as she hadn't swam much in her life, but she found a rhythm soon enough. When she re-emerged above the surface, she saw Iain had taken her words to heart and not replaced his top. He was now playing with the taps, pouring bubbles from some and investigating others. "Look at all these," he called to her, and Narcissa swam over.

"Bloody prefects," he muttered. "They get everythin!"

"Well, it's part of the perks," pointed out Narcissa. "I'd have been a prefect if not for stupid Helen Greengrass. She's such a goody two-shoes."

"Meanwhile," said Iain, making a face, "I have to shower in a room with twelve other blokes in the stalls all around me. Believe me, it's not a good time."

Narcissa fell into a fit of laughter at this. "At least you can get a shower. The girls in my dormitory take forever!" She swam backwards and frowned when the overly large t-shirt floated up. It wasn't revealing anything, but it was troublesome.

"Here," said Iain, moving over to her. "Just tie it, it's okay." Reaching forward, he pulled the fabric tighter around Narcissa's stomach, twisting the extra length at the end and tying it into a knot. His knuckles brushed the bare skin of Narcissa's stomach as he did so, and Narcissa felt a jolt travel through to the tops of her thighs. They both blushed.

"Thank you," said Narcissa once he was finished.

Iain quickly pulled away. After a few minutes of swimming, he asked Narcissa, "Do you lot ever play Marco Polo?"

"I have no idea what that is," Narcissa admitted, trying unsuccessfully to make herself float on her back. She landed on her feet again as Iain explained the game to her.

"Oh," she said with understanding. "We have a game similar to that! You don't call out Marco or Polo, though. Instead, the person who is 'it' has to slap the water, and the other people have to slap the water twice in response."

"Okay," said Iain, grinning. "Let's do that. You're it!"

Huffing, Narcissa stopped in the center of the pool and put her hands over her eyes. "Alright, I'll count to ten. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one." She moved her hands but kept her eyes tightly closed, listening carefully for movements in the water. Moving slowly, she extended her arms fully in search of Iain. Then she slapped the water once.

Somewhere behind her, two more slaps came. Grinning wickedly, Narcissa turned in that direction, reaching out blindly. She slapped the water again, and this time the two slaps were to her left, followed by some scrambling in the water.

"Hufflepuff is stupid!" she called out, then waited for a response. When there was none, she pouted. "Damn, I thought that would work." A muffled laugh near her right made her turn directions again and she jumped out. More splashing, which she followed. The chase was on now, and it was only a few more seconds before Narcissa jumped out and her hands landed on warm flesh. "Got you!"

Narcissa and Iain both exploded with laughter. "You tried to cheat!" he accused.

"Of course I did," said Narcissa. "Now, you're it! Close your eyes and count to ten."

Iain did as he was told, closing his eyes and counting as Narcissa tried to get as far away as possible without making too much noise. When Iain was done counting, he slapped the water. Tucked into a far corner, Narcissa responded with two slaps of her own, fighting the urge to giggle loudly. Iain started out from his spot, arms spread wide as he searched for her.

Biting her lip, Narcissa edged along the wall. The hardest thing was not laughing at the sight of Iain walking around in the water, groping at something that wasn't there. He was much longer than Narcissa, though, so he was able to cover a lot more ground than she had. Squirming away from his extended fingers, Narcissa barely kept from shrieking when he came dangerously close to her. Iain slapped the water, and Narcissa hesitated before responding.

Iain jumped close, and Narcissa hurried back, pulling her arms close to her chest and doing her best not to squeal.

Iain's lips quirked, even though his eyes were still closed. He knew she was near, and for a moment, he simply paused and listened. Narcissa took the opportunity to look at him where she hovered just nearby. Merlin's beard. How had she ever looked at him and not thought how painfully handsome he was? All he was doing was standing in front of her, his eyes closed and his expression thoughtful, and Narcissa could not bring herself to look away.

So when he reached out and grabbed her very quickly, Narcissa wasn't even able to react. Before she knew what was happening, she was ensnared in Iain's arms and pulled right against against his bare torso. Iain opened his eyes because he knew he'd caught her.

This time, neither of them laughed.

Narcissa felt her breath leave her, her eyes up on Iain's face, so near hers. He'd trapped her arms when he'd grabbed her, but his grip loosened after a few moments and she was able to lower one hand. Water sloshed around them from their movements, but Narcissa and Iain remained just where they were, still pressed up against one another in the center of the pool.

Steam from the water rose higher in the air, but it was the heat between them that burned her. Narcissa could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she was certain he must hear it, too. Energy tingled in every part of Narcissa's body, starting with her lips where they were parted to the tips of her toes under the water. Every piece of her felt alive, even as her heart threatened to come to a complete stop.

Iain's expression was, for the first time ever, quite difficult to read.

He held her still, one of his hands curled over her bare arm near her elbow, and his face lingered near hers. After a few seconds, Narcissa recognized what she saw there in his eyes – confusion, conflict. He was going to pull away again, she knew it. But, oh Merlin, she didn't want him to.

So she cheated again.

Before Iain could move away from her, Narcissa reached out with her free hand and placed her open palm against his bare torso. Iain's eyes instantly lowered, eyelids fluttering, and before he could stop her – though he did not make a motion to do so – Narcissa moved her hand down the center of his chest with painstaking slowness. Curling her fingers slightly against his skin, Narcissa took a minute step closer and dropped her fingertips all the way down Iain's stomach. The lower her hand went, the shallower his breathing became. She could see it in every movement of his muscles, the way he inhaled sharply when her hand slipped below the water.

When her fingertips brushed the hem of his shorts, Narcissa looked back up at his face again, features set.

Iain scarcely seemed to breathe. For a long moment, he didn't move at all. Then, as soon as their eyes locked again, he closed the distance between them and caught Narcissa's lips in a deep kiss, winding his arms fully around her and pulling her entire body flush against his in an exhilarating grip.

Narcissa gasped at the sensation, her hands jumping up and looping around his neck as Iain's lips parted hers. For the first time ever, she felt someone else's tongue brush her own. The sensation was electric, so jarring to her senses that Narcissa's fingers curled at the base of his hairline on the back of his neck. One of the Iain's hands moved up to thread through her hair, the other at the base of her spine, high under the t-shirt which had become loose again. Just the feeling of his hand on her bare skin made Narcissa press against him, and suddenly, she could think of nothing else but feeling as much of him as possible.

For a split-second, their lips parted and Narcissa felt a shaky breath escape her, a noise she could not suppress before Iain crushed her to him again, his fingers tight at her warm waist. It was an intense grip, but Narcissa wanted it, did not mind in the slightest if imprints were left there. Panting against the kiss, Narcissa let herself curl into every movement of his hands. Her own fingers jumped over his naked torso, desperate for the feel of his skin, gripping and squeezing whatever she could find.

Oh, how sore Abigail would be to lose him, Narcissa thought in the back of her mind. If he'd ever kissed Abigail even half as well as he kissed Narcissa now, Abigail would be miserable without him.

Iain dropped both his hands to grip Narcissa's hips, pulling his lips away from hers only to drop them to her neck, where her hair stuck to her skin in wet swirls of white-blond. As soon as she felt his mouth against her throat, Narcissa's lips parted and she arched forward, desperate for more. Iain responded with a groan of his own, and the next time he tugged her against him, she could feel every hard inch of him.

This brought a new shock of sensations to Narcissa's body, much of which was reacting in a way it never had before. No boy had ever kissed her and made her want _more_. The way Iain kissed her, held her, moved his hands over her skin - Merlin, it made her want everything.

Reaching for him, Narcissa brought his face up to hers again and their lips crashed together, a distressed noise coming from Iain when Narcissa gripped the waistband of his shorts to tug him closer. A dangerous sort of pressure seemed to be building inside of her, and all Narcissa could think of was getting Iain as close to her as possible, feeling him against her.

Suddenly, Narcissa felt a wall of cool tile against her shoulder blades, and she realized Iain had picked her up and moved her around to the high wall at the head of the pool. His arm jumped behind her head to brace it from the wall, but his other was looped at her waist, tugging her higher so their faces were level. As soon as Narcissa felt herself pressed against the wall, she instinctively brought up her legs and wrapped them around Iain's waist.

"Oh," she exhaled gripping Iain's bicep as she felt his hardness again, this time pressed right up against her. Iain's mouth found hers once more, and Merlin, her body felt like it was a thousand degrees. That feeling intensified monumentally when she rolled her hips against Iain's in an instinctive bid to draw him closer, to relieve the pressure in her lower stomach and groin. The friction was almost unbearable, and Narcissa whimpered.

" _Fuck_ ," breathed Iain in a strained voice she'd never heard from him before. His free hand moved to the wall beside Narcissa's head and curled there, and for the first time since that first kiss, his eyes lifted to hers and they looked directly at one another.

Narcissa could not imagine how she looked, what Iain saw when he looked at her, but the mental image of Iain's flushed face, the darkness in his eyes, the way his lips remained parted – that would never leave her, she knew. It would remain forever engraved in her brain, the most secret and private part of her. He was trembling, she realized; so was she.

Leaning forward, Narcissa slipped one hand behind his neck and tugged him closer, pressing her mouth to his slowly and tugging on his lower lip as she did so. His response was to rock against her, sending a fresh jolt of pleasure through her entire body. Oh, how she needed this –

But then Iain's hands disappeared from her waist, and without warning, the intense heat pulled away from her. Narcissa opened her eyes to see Iain staring at her, looking almost angry, his chest still heaving as Narcissa's was.

His expression was stricken, as if someone had just given him the most dire news. Narcissa's heart cracked and splintered at how upset he looked.

"God damn it!" he exclaimed, startling her before he tugged himself away. Before Narcissa even knew what was happening, Iain moved away from her and pulled himself up out of the pool, water dripping down and leaving a trail behind him as he disappeared into one of the shower rooms without looking back.

Narcissa stayed where she was, frozen. A few minutes went by, and Iain did not return. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes. The heat faded and disappeared. All Narcissa felt now was the rapidly cooling water and her own trembles.

"What have I done…?" she whispered to herself, sinking lower into the water as tears streamed down her cheeks.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The original posting of this chapter got messed up, and only my author's note was available. Here is the full chapter! Thanks guys!

Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews! I love writing these two. 

* * *

_After that night in the prefect bathroom, I returned to the Slytherin dungeons and bided my time, an anxious mess. My stomach was in knots, my heart in shambles. The next day was the final day of Christmas break, and I spent most of it looking for Iain._

_However, he would not come out. Instead, he kept hidden for the entire day, and even though I knew he must be sequestered away in the Hufflepuff Common Room, I did not dare go in there. I knew the way inside, but if Iain wanted to keep away from me, my pride would not allow me to chase after him._

_At first, I was embarrassed. Humiliated. I wanted to apologize, to tell him that I was sorry for what had happened, even though he had been the one to kiss me. I had led him into it, and we both knew it. I had tricked him, like the selfish person I was, knowing that he was in a relationship and not caring an ounce._

_But as I spent the last day of my now empty break without him, the shame and regret turned to anger. How dare he be the one to pull away? How dare he be the one with self-control, the one who deny me? He had no right to be embarrassed of me! I was the one who had ought to be ashamed, not him! I felt fury in my heart, knowing full-well that it was mostly punctuated by hurt._

_Even when I heard, on the first day of classes, that Iain had broken up with Abigail, I felt no better. I let myself think on it only long enough to feel spite. Good riddance. Abigail didn't deserve him anyway. She had never even truly been in the picture, no matter what she thought. It was best she finally knew it._

_Still, even after the break-up, Iain wasn't talking to me, no matter what I did. I cannot say that I took this well, but then again, anyone who knew me at the time could have guessed as much._

_I was an emotional creature; to be honest, I still am._

* * *

On the first day of the new term, Narcissa stared at herself in the mirror next to her bed.

There were deep circles under her eyes from a night barren of sleep, and no amount of make-up she applied seemed to cover it. At breakfast that morning, she drank little and ate even less. Her stomach roiled, pitching uncomfortably back and forth like a restless wave. For all the practice she had in dealing with stress, Narcissa still did not handle it well.

In the Great Hall, she briefly scanned the tables to see if Iain was there. He was not, or at least not where she could see, and she wondered if he would go so far as to fake sick just so he wouldn't have to see her. The two shared three classes together, but only in Potions had they ever been near enough to talk to one another.

Sighing, Narcissa rose from the chatty Slytherin table. The school was full of bustling students once more, refreshed from their break and happy to see their friends. They shared news of gifts and parties and holiday fun, each more excited than the last. Narcissa wished them all a slow and painful death. She did not want their cheer, and she found it outright offensive that the entire school population did not share her misery.

Going first to Herbology, Narcissa scraped by in her assignment, doing little to earn the mediocre grade she got from Sprout. From there, she went to Potions.

The previous term was over, and she and Iain were no longer obligated to be partners. They had turned in their project. So, as Narcissa walked with stone-laden feet to the Potions classroom, she wondered what she might find there. Her pessimistic heart, in all its great theatrics, tried to make her believe that Iain would call her out publicly, declare her a wanton harlot who had no dignity. He would do no such thing, of course. Even in her darkest moments, buried in her despair, Narcissa could not believe such behavior from Iain. Even her anger at him would not taint her view of him quite that much.

But when Narcissa entered the Potions classroom, she felt a new flare of anger at the Muggleborn Scott when she saw him standing – not at their usual table - but next to a Gryffindor boy, a fellow called Alec Travers who would apparently be his new partner. The two were chatting amicably, and to Narcissa's mounting rage, Iain seemed to be doing just fine. A moment later, though, Alec turned away and Iain's expression dropped. He looked weathered now, Narcissa saw. Setting her mouth in a grim line, Narcissa entered and purposefully knocked over some books to grab Iain's attention.

He looked up at the noise, and for a split-second, he met Narcissa's gaze. She narrowed her eyes on him with such heat that he actually ducked his head, looking a little alarmed as he cleared his throat and shifted his body away again.

Narcissa took a spot at their old table. In only seconds, Sybil joined her. "Morning!" said the other Slytherin. "What do you say, partners this term? Elizabeth was horrible last time."

"Sure," said Narcissa, not bothering to say anything else.

Sybil didn't notice, instead pulling out a file and perfecting the edges of her nails as they waited for class to begin. "I bet you're relieved, eh?" she asked Narcissa, who shifted to blink slowly at Sybil.

"What?" Narcissa asked.

Sybil set the file aside. "You know! Start of the term, new project." She leaned over and grinned wickedly. "Finally, you're free of that Mudblood Hufflepuff. You must be delighted!"

Narcissa's fingers tightened around her quill, sharp end jutting out of her clenched palm. She wanted to stab Sybil in the neck, and only the threat of Azkaban kept her from doing so. If she'd had possession of a time-turner, she would have murdered Sybil over and over again. This was the level of tolerance Narcissa currently possessed.

How dare this tramp – Sybil, who was so stupid she had once glued her eyelids shut while trying to put on false lashes – call Iain a Mudblood? If anyone was going to insult Iain, it was Narcissa, who had every reason to curse him into oblivion. Sybil did not have that right.

"Absolutely," said Narcissa at last through clenched teeth. She must have looked manic, because Sybil's eyes widened and she shifted away a little, muttering something about how Narcissa must be on her cycle. _No_ , Narcissa wanted to say, _but there_ _ **will**_ _be blood if you don't shut your bloody horse-faced slack-jawed mouth –_

"Welcome back, everyone!" came Slughorn's cheerful voice, jarring Narcissa out of her homicidal thoughts. She dropped her quill and turned to face Slughorn. "I hope everyone enjoyed your holidays!"

"Yes, sir!" said a Ravenclaw girl who was always a brown-noser. "How was yours, Professor?"

"Oh," said Slughorn, before pursing his lips. "It was quite stressful, actually." He cut his eyes at Narcissa, obviously expecting Iain – her partner in crime – to be there as well. When he spotted them standing apart, he frowned a little. Then he went on. "But, that is how it happens, sometimes. Now, if you'll all give me a moment, I have your term projects from the first of the year graded." He pulled out a stack of papers. "And," he said with a flourish, "I am proud to announce that the top marks for last term's project goes to – Narcissa Black and Iain Stuart!" And then he muttered, "the only good thing to come of it."

Narcissa could practically hear the confusion in the classroom. Both Iain and Narcissa stared pointedly at their desks as Slughorn balked, and then he shuffled forward, handing them their individual reports. Narcissa took hers and dully scanned it. They'd gotten a nearly perfect score on the hardest potion in class. A few days ago, they would have been thrilled.

Now Narcissa and Iain both held their papers with awkward, hunched shoulders and – in Iain's case – a grim, unenthusiastic smile. Slughorn passed out all the rest of the scores (Sybil got a 70% on hers), and then he went on with the day's lesson.

Narcissa barely heard a word.

Once the class was finally done, she folded up the report Slughorn had given her and walked to the door. When she got there, she saw Iain hesitate, glancing for just a moment behind him as if he might say or do something. He would be stupid to talk to Narcissa where anyone could hear them, though. She was not sure if this was the reason he seemingly decided against it, or he simply couldn't figure out what to say.

Narcissa cut around him and, when no one else was looking, she shoved her report on their project into his hands. "Keep it," she hissed in a whisper. "I don't want it."

Iain's stunned expression pinched with hurt, and he looked down at the report in his hand before Narcissa turned and stomped off.

* * *

For the next week, Iain and Narcissa maintained their tense separation. Narcissa saw, when she watched him more closely in class, that he was having a great deal of trouble keeping up a happy face. Iain had never been any good at disguising what he was feeling, whether he was happy or upset. Although he seemed to be making an effort to appear fine, she could read the anxiety on his features each time he thought no one was looking.

_Good_ , thought Narcissa with spite. Let him suffer.

Each night, she went to their hidden classroom, waiting with hot angry tears loitering on the edges of her eyes. Still, Iain did not show up. In class, he did everything he could to avoid even walking near her, and Narcissa quickly decided that whatever terrible emotion he was feeling, the punishment was not enough.

If he wanted to avoid her, she was going to make things very difficult for him.

So, each day in Potions, Narcissa dedicated all her time and energy to making sure that every single one of Iain's potions went terribly wrong. She did not sabotage anything that would cause him injury – the thought crossed her mind, although she immediately dismissed it – but she did make sure to ruin his day at every opportunity.

On Tuesday, Narcissa flicked her wand at the flame under his cauldron, and the entire potion flipped up into the air only to nearly crush the two girls in front of him with heavy iron and boiling hot liquid. Iain turned a furious shade of red and apologized hurriedly to the girls, but when he glanced up and caught Narcissa watching him, she knew that _he_ knew she was the one behind it. Still, he simply set his jaw and went back to his work, ignoring her.

Just as he did on Wednesday, when Narcissa stole all of his stirring tools while he wasn't looking and dropped them in a barrel of live bees. On Thursday, she replaced all of his ink with slime. That same Friday, she mixed up all his potions ingredients, swapping anything that could be mistaken for the other. The resulting potion had been so awful, Slughorn had taken ten points from Hufflepuff.

All of this Iain bore with the patience of Job, although certainly he knew it was Narcissa behind his catastrophes. Each day, he glanced at her for only a moment, clearly annoyed and indignant, but still unwilling to speak up. By Friday, a week into their unspoken (and one-sided) war, he still had not acknowledged Narcissa, and she was furious.

Scowling, Narcissa came to the Slytherin Common Room that evening, feeling defeated and angry.

While she sat pitying herself, a group of Slytherin boys entered the Common Room. One of them was Thaddeus, the boy who had taken Narcissa to the Winter Ball. Upon seeing Narcissa, he smiled and walked up, standing a cautious distance away when he saw her sour expression. "Narcissa?" he asked, and she looked up. "Are you alright?"

He seemed genuinely concerned. Narcissa sighed and sat up straighter, so that she wasn't slumped over like a pouting toddler. "I'm fine," she muttered, not caring for much pretense at the moment. She just wanted to go to bed and cry. Her limbs felt weak from anxiety and lack of food. She must have looked horrible.

Still, Thaddeus took a seat next to her. "Hey look, Narcissa," he said, tilting his head at her, "I'm sorry about the Winter Ball. I went to talk to some of my mates, and when I turned around, you weren't there. When I asked someone, they said you'd gotten sick and left." His brows furrowed in concern. "I should have been with you to help. It was stupid of me to leave you alone in the first place."

Narcissa frowning, feeling dangerously close to tears. Thaddeus seemed to be sincere, and Narcissa remembered that he was one of the kinder boys in their year. To know that at least someone cared about her feelings was enough to overwhelm her entirely. "Thank you," she said at last, her voice soft. "It wasn't your fault, though. I sent you away, and then I didn't wait for you to return."

Leaning back against the couch she was sitting on, Narcissa stared up at the ceiling, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Not a good break?" asked Thaddeus.

"Horrible," confirmed Narcissa, staring up at the ceiling. That wasn't true; most of her break had been fantastic, the best time of her life. It was only that last miserable day that had pulled a shadow over the entire holiday, tainting every pure and lovely memory with an inky blackness that would not go away.

"Well," said Thaddeus, shifting a little closer. "Perhaps I could try to make you feel better. How about we try to – you know, go out again?" When Narcissa shifted head to look at him, he smiled. "We can do anything you want. Really. And this time, I won't disappear on you like an idiot."

Narcissa blinked at him. At first, she wasn't sure what to say. Then her eyes caught sight of something behind him; it was the bulletin board in the Common Room, and the biggest flyer on there read: SLYTHERIN VS HUFFLEPUFF, JANUARY 12TH, 1973 AT 2:00 PM.

Suddenly, Narcissa felt a devious grin take over her features. "You know," she said, sitting more prettily, "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Why don't we go to the Quidditch match together this weekend?"

Thaddeus's features lit up with a wide smile. "Really?" he asked excitedly. "You're sure that's what you want? I mean, I didn't even know you liked Quidditch."

"Oh, I am a _huge_ fan," said Narcissa graciously. "I positively adore all the – " she paused, clearing her throat a little and waving her hand vaguely, " – ahem, flying around, and what not. It's my favorite."

"Brilliant!" said Thaddeus, none the wiser. "It's a date, then!"

Pleased, Narcissa leaned over and kissed Thaddeus's cheek. His features brightened, and she congratulated herself on her cleverness. She did feel a little bad for Thaddeus though, as he seemed quite excited. She would have to do something nice for him once she was done using him. After all, Narcissa wasn't heartless.

* * *

The next day, Narcissa rose early, even though the match did not start until the afternoon, and she selected her outfit very carefully. In the end, she chose a pair of black robes that were quite different from their boring school ones, and she accented them in green, including emerald eyeshadow and a matching elastic headband, which she wrapped around her head after parting her hair in the middle and wearing it straight. She even placed little jewels at the corners of her eyes, and the other girls in the dormitory praised her style.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Narcissa felt quite satisfied. Let Iain see her and _not_ be stricken; it would be impossible.

When she went down to the Common Room to find Thaddeus, he was busy painting his face. Narcissa rolled her eyes, as if she had not just spent the last two hours going over every fine detail of her make-up. When Thaddeus saw Narcissa, he stood with a grin. "You look great. Want some facepaint?"

"Not on your life," said Narcissa sweetly, before gesturing to her own face artistry.

Thaddeus sniggered and quickly finished up. Then he left the Common Room with Narcissa, walking with her through the castle before they came out into the open grounds between the castle and the pitch. Narcissa looked over at him, smiled her little smile, and then took his hand in hers. Thaddeus happily accepted, and they walked hand-in-hand across the great expanse of grass to the stadium where others gathered. Once they neared, Narcissa leaned over and kissed his cheek again, making him flush.

"Oh, hey," he said, reaching into his pocket with his free hand. "I've got some gold I plan on betting. You want in?"

Narcissa raised a brow. "I thought betting on the matches was against the rules," she said as a few other Slytherin boys came up and greeted Thaddeus.

"Well, yeah," he admitted with a little grin. "But what the teachers don't know won't hurt them." He turned to the other boys. "What do you lot say? Let's go take some of those Hufflepuffs' gold." Then Thaddeus turned and scanned the gathering crowd hanging out near the stands, not yet in their seats. "Oi, there's Stuart! He'll take a bet, I'm sure."

Narcissa's heart constricted. With a careful shift, she followed Thaddeus's gaze to where Iain Stuart stood with a few other Hufflepuffs, laughing and exchanging handfuls of galleons. He, too, was painted up in his house colors. Narcissa's grip on Thaddeus's hand tightened.

The other Slytherin boy scoffed. "I don't do business with Mudbloods," he grunted. Narcissa wanted to throttle him. _Stop calling Iain that!_ she shrieked in her mind. Thaddeus simply shrugged.

"I'll take a Mudblood's gold all day if he's stupid enough to bet on Hufflepuff. Come on, Narcissa."

Before she could protest – or mentally prepare herself – Thaddeus tugged Narcissa over in Iain's direction. When Iain looked up and spotted them walking up together, hand-in-hand, all the color drained from his face. He quickly recovered, shifting in his spot, but when he looked up at the approaching pair, his features looked uncharacteristically hard and narrowed. It reminded Narcissa of the picture of his older brothers, who shared his features but not his sweet demeanor.

Still, in that moment, Iain looked quite unfriendly.

"Oi," said Thaddeus as they approached. He held up a small sack of gold. "You want to lose some gold, Stuart?"

Iain shifted to look at Narcissa for only a moment, his lips set in a tight line. Then he looked back to Thaddeus and relaxed his features some, but not much. "Aye," he said, showing Thaddeus his own gold. "What's your bet?"

Thaddeus looked thoughtful for a moment before turning to Narcissa. "What do you think, Narcissa?"

Narcissa, who had been staring pointedly away from Iain and doing her best to look unaffected, blinked at Thaddeus in surprise. "Well," she said, clearing her throat a little, "on Slytherin, of course."

Thaddeus laughed. "Yeah, but what's the spread you think?"

Narcissa's eye twitched a little. She had no idea what he was talking about. After a few seconds of silence, Iain chuckled in a not-so-nice way. "Give it up, Carrow. Miss Black here doesn't know a thing about Quidditch."

Thaddeus made a face. "Sure she does. Quidditch is her favorite sport, she's a huge fan. Isn't that right, Narcissa?"

Narcissa's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and she managed a somewhat awkward, stilted nod. "Of course," she said, before casting a supremely hateful glare at Iain, who seemed to be enjoying her discomfort a great deal. "As I said, I am a … great follower of … Quidditch ... ball ... games."

"Is that so," said Iain, sliding his hands into the pockets of his robes as he observed her with a sort of grim amusement. Narcissa felt her heart in her throat. No one on this campus knew her like Iain Stuart, and damned if it didn't come back to haunt her at the worst possible time. Today was supposed to be about making him sorry, damn it! She opened her mouth to reply, but Iain cut her off.

"Because," he said, and Narcissa glared, "I would be extremely impressed…" he took a step closer, " … if you could even tell me which ball the Quaffle is."

Narcissa swallowed. The only ball she knew in Quidditch was the Snitch, and only because it was gold and shiny and the name for it sounded like the word "bitch." For all she knew, Iain could just be making the bloody word "Quaffle" up.

The two exchanged glares for a heated moment. Thaddeus simply stood by, looking confused.

At last, Narcissa folded her arms and huffed. "I don't have to answer _anything_ to a bloody stupid – " she stumbled here, and Iain's eyes sharpened on her, " … Hufflepuff," she finished at last in a mutter.

The two fell into a very tense standoff. Thaddeus looked between them before stepping forward. "Bloody hell, the match is about to start! Here, Stuart, just take the damn gold and put me down for sixty over Hufflepuff." He slapped the gold into Iain's palm and then took Narcissa's hand, leading her away as the announcer began calling out the lineup.

Narcissa let Thaddeus pull her away, stumbling a little as he tugged her along and fighting so very hard not to look back at Iain. She failed, and oh, how she regretted it.

He was watching her with that same furious expression he'd worn the night at the prefect bath, devastation mixed with anger. Narcissa's chest clenched, but in the next moment, she and Thaddeus were up in the high stands and surrounded by Slytherins.

The game started, and things happened. People flew, some got hurt, a ball went some place. Narcissa briefly thought about paying enough attention to keep up her illusion, but she felt entirely deflated. As the match progressed, she did not even pretend to enjoy it. Thaddeus was so caught up in the game that he did not seem to notice at first, but as it drew to a close, he turned to Narcissa and frowned. "Are you okay?" he asked, squeezing her hand.

Narcissa conjured a small smile. "Fine," she said, even as her stomach roiled.

In the end, Slytherin lost.

* * *

A few hours later, as the day turned to evening, Thaddeus asked Narcissa to walk with him around the grounds. He said the fresh air would cheer her up. Having no other options besides sitting in the dark and sobbing, Narcissa accepted and walked hand-in-hand with Thaddeus until they finally reached the solitary clock tower. Together, they moved around the massive pendulum and came to sit next to one of the open arches, which gave a spectacular view of the grounds. The sky in front of them shifted from one warm shade to the next, gradually growing cooler and darker in preparation for the night. Narcissa turned her face to it and felt the last her own warmth and happiness disappear with it.

Thaddeus waited patiently, not speaking, also looking out at the sunset. Narcissa looked back at him, and after a few moments of deliberation, she scooted closer. Her eyes felt glassy and swollen with unshed tears, and her whole body felt heavy. Even her mind felt like it was in a thick, dense fog from which she could not escape.

She had to know something.

"Will you kiss me, please?" asked Narcissa to Thaddeus.

The Slytherin boy blinked in surprise. After a few seconds, he smiled. "Sure," he said. With a little hesitation, Thaddeus leaned forward and placed his fingertips on Narcissa's jaw before pressing their lips together. It was a soft, demure kiss, and for a moment, Narcissa thought about trying to deepen it.

But then she pulled away, and her features tightened as she fought the urge to cry.

Thaddeus's brows furrowed. Narcissa thought he might blow up at her for looking so miserable after kissing him, but instead, he grinned a little. "That wasn't about me, was it?" he asked, tilting his head at her.

Tears slipped down Narcissa's cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and to her great surprise, she meant it. "You are very nice. And you're handsome, and you're a perfectly nice kisser, but…" She sighed deeply, feeling sorrow deep in the pit where her heart had been. Iain must hate her.

After a long stretch of silence, Thaddeus asked, "Is this about Stuart?" Narcissa's eyes snapped up to him, and Thaddeus held up both hands. "Relax, Narcissa. I'm not going to say anything – "

"Good," hissed Narcissa, with tears still on her cheeks and her fingers curled in fists, "because I would _murder_ you – "

"I know, I know!" Thaddeus said, his eyes wide. He glanced at the edge he lingered near and wisely stepped away from it. "Bloody hell, I get it, Narcissa! But look, it wasn't that hard to figure out after seeing you guys today, alright? You two need to be a bit more – I don't know – discreet when you see each other."

Narcissa scowled deeply. "It doesn't matter," she growled. "There's nothing to hide." She felt ready to hex him, and he seemed to sense it. Thaddeus frowned and kept his hands where she could see them.

Then he said cautiously, "Hey, would it make you feel better if I told you something about myself? Something you could use against me?"

"Perhaps," said Narcissa coolly.

Thaddeus lowered his hands and bit his lip. When he hesitated, Narcissa's interest was piqued. After a tight swallow, he gave her a small smile. "I don't think I like girls."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "What?" she said in disbelief. "Then why did you try so bloody hard to date me?"

Thaddeus shrugged. "I think – I think I just thought, maybe I could figure it out. I've always liked talking to you, Narcissa. I just hoped, you know – if I could like any girl, it would be you." He paused. "But I think I just want to be your friend." His lips quirked in a little smile. "Because I do like you. And I think you're better than all the other girls in Slytherin. So I figured, if I was going to have to fake it with any girl, it may as well be you."

She thought about this. "That was very deceptive of you," noted Narcissa.

Thaddeus gestured to himself. "Slytherin," he said by way of explanation.

Quite against her will, Narcissa smiled. Thaddeus did too, and then they laughed, which seemed to surprise them both. The tension faded away, and they both relaxed into their seats again. "So you really don't think you like girls at all?" asked Narcissa curiously. It seemed odd, but she didn't mind it.

Thaddeus scrunched his features and shook his head. "Nah, not really. I mean, I think some are pretty. But kind of in the same way I think art is pretty." He sighed, before looking over at Narcissa again. "So why are you and Stuart angry at each other?"

Narcissa lowered her eyes. She couldn't trust him with any more information, but she wished she could. "It's a long story," she murmured at last. "And it doesn't matter. He won't talk to me anymore."

"So make him," suggested Thaddeus.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "If it was that bloody simple – "

"Come on, Narcissa," cut in Thaddeus. "Are you a Black or aren't you? _Make_ him talk to you. Men at their roots are weak. If he's avoiding you, it's only because he knows he'll crack if you get close enough."

Narcissa blinked, and then she smiled a little. "Perhaps you're right," she said, drawing a line on the brick with her fingertip. Looking up at Thaddeus, her smile grew. "Thank you." Shifting closer, Narcissa hugged Thaddeus, who relaxed into the embrace and returned it. "You can be my friend if you like," Narcissa whispered to him.

Thaddeus pulled away, and his features lit up. "Really? That's great!" He paused before adding quite seriously, "but don't tell my secret, or I'll push you out of a window."

"Likewise," agreed Narcissa tenderly, every bit as sincere.

The two friends exchanged meaningful looks, and Narcissa squeezed Thaddeus's hand before getting up. "Oh," she said before leaving, "by the way, there's a cute Gryffindor boy in my Herbology class who I've caught looking at boys' bums before. Perhaps you should try your luck with him!"

Thaddeus tucked his head and chuckled as Narcissa left.

* * *

That very night, Narcissa stayed awake long after all the other girls had gone to sleep. It was the weekend, and it took a while for everyone to finally fall into their beds, but Narcissa waited in her bed with a set glare and a determined press to her lips. At last, she slipped out of bed, wrapped herself in a robe, and then she tiptoed down to the Slytherin Common Room. Once she was sure no one was around, she sneaked out of the dungeons and into the main corridors of Hogwarts.

Heart pounding, Narcissa dipped in and out of shadows, once having to rush to avoid damn Filch and his cat. After what felt like hours, she arrived at the kitchens and then the pile of barrels that disguised the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Narcissa's insides quivered with fear. If she was caught, she would be expelled. For a moment, she asked herself whether this was worth it. Then, with a burst of determination, Narcissa activated the barrels in the precise manner Iain had shown her over the holidays, and she ducked inside. Limbs shaking, Narcissa crawled through the tunnel and emerged cautiously into the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Oh, this had been their sanctuary. And now it was ruined by the return of all those who did not deserve it. Taking a deep breath, Narcissa looked around the deserted Common Room. Thank Merlin, no one was still awake. It was just after two am, so she hoped she was safe.

Moving over to the stairs, Narcissa climbed them with as light a foot as she could manage, casting silencing charms the whole way and doing whatever else she could to keep from being overheard. During the holiday, she had never actually gone up to the dormitories, but Iain had described the corridor to her once. She did not dare illuminate her wand, but she could just barely make out the numbers on the doors, so she scanned each of them with squinted eyes until she came to a round wooden door with a '6' on it.

Placing her trembling hand on the knob, Narcissa slowly edged the door open.

There were only three sixth year Hufflepuff boys, including Iain. He had once revealed to her that he slept at the far right because his two roommates snored. When Narcissa paused to listen, she could hear it – good lord, no wonder he'd moved. Both of the other boys were outrageously loud and nasally. At least it let her know they were fast asleep.

Shifting around in the dim light of the dormitory, Narcissa spotted the bed at the far end, which had its curtains mostly drawn. However, through a slim crack in the yellow fabric, she saw an arm she knew belonged to Iain.

Steeling her resolve, Narcissa crept over the space and pulled back the curtains.

Iain was fast asleep, lying on his back with one arm over his head and his face turned into the crook of his elbow. Out of the corner of her eye, Narcissa spotted his bedside table, and what she saw there made her stop.

It was the model ship she'd given him for Christmas. He'd assembled it already.

He hadn't done so before the night in the prefect's bathroom, so that meant he had put it together since they'd parted. Narcissa bit her lip so tightly it hurt. Looking back to Iain, she felt like ripping off his curtains. How dare he put her through this much pain?

Climbing onto the bed cautiously, Narcissa shifted all the way inside and then pulled the curtains closed tight. Once that was done, she cast silencing charms on every inch of fabric. There, no sound would escape.

Shifting on her knees to face the sleeping boy again, Narcissa glared at his relaxed form. She'd barely slept a wink, and this stupid oaf was just snoozing away. Narcissa thought of how to wake him, and she imagined him stirring from the throes of sleep to find her watching him, calm and dangerous. That had been her plan.

Instead, she immediately lost her temper and slapped his arm. "Wake up, Iain!" she hissed, swatting at him again. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Iain jerked awake, eyes wide, but Narcissa kept smacking his arm.

"Ow! What in - "

" - you bloody – lowborn – no good – sheep-herding Scott!"

"Narcissa, what the hell?" shrieked Iain in a loud whisper, snatching her hand to stop it from hitting him as he struggled to sit up in the bed, only just now realizing that Narcissa was sitting on his covers and trapping his legs beneath the sheets. "What are you doing in here?" he asked, horrified. "If you get caught, we'll both be expelled!" He released her hand. "Are you _insane_?"

Narcissa yanked her hand away even though he'd already released it, and the sheer force of the movement almost caused her to tumble off the bed. Not her most dignified moment, she recollected later. "Well, if I am, it's only because you made me this way!" she hissed back at him.

"Keep your voice down!" he told her, but Narcissa just scowled.

"Relax, I have silencing charms on the whole bed. Your bloody stupid dormmates aren't going to hear us. And besides, all of this is YOUR bloody fault!"

Iain blinked at her, his hair sticking up from sleep and half of his body still trapped beneath the covers. He was wearing a white undershirt, and probably pajama pants, but she couldn't tell. "You are insane," he said at last, falling back against his pillows. "Bloody mental, Narcissa." He dragged his hands over his face.

Growling, Narcissa shuffled forward on her knees and poked him in the chest. "No! You don't get to do this again! You are not the one who is supposed to be embarrassed of me, do you understand? You aren't allowed to be the one who is ashamed! That should be me, do you hear? Me!"

Iain dropped his hands and stared at her, his brows furrowed.

"And," went on Narcissa, now that she was in the heat of fury, "you tried to do it again today, at that stupid bloody Quidditch match! How _dare_ you?" She punched the bedding with her small closed fist. "Why did you have to embarrass me like that?"

Iain's features sharpened. "Why did _you_ have to bring that stupid guy and flirt with him right in front of me?" he exclaimed.

Narcissa grew louder. "Why did you have to switch partners?!"

"Why did you have to sabotage all my potions?" he practically yelled.

Narcissa smashed both fists on the bed. " _Why did you abandon me_?" she screamed.

This time, Iain fell silent. At his expression, Narcissa suddenly all the red hot anger fade away, and her features crumpled. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and all at once, she was miserable again. Iain's eyes softened, and his face dropped, his back falling against his headboard with a _thunk_.

He seemed to search for words, but none came.

Narcissa sucked in a shaky breath, trying to stop her tears, to no avail. She looked away as well, her eyes on the dark shadow of the curtain. Biting her lip, she said with as much dignity as she could manage, "If you didn't care for me that way, all you had to do was say so. We could have still been friends."

Iain's head snapped up. "You think that's the reason I ran away, Narcissa? Because I don't care about you that way?"

She looked back at him. "Why else would you have left?"

At this, Iain's resolve seemed to break. "Bloody hell, Narcisa!" he exclaimed, looking deeply upset. "Pick a reason! You've got plenty to choose from!" Scooting closer, Iain dropped his gaze to meet hers. "But not caring about you has _never_ been one of them."

Narcissa sniffled. Finally, Iain reached over and slipped his larger hand over hers, curling her fingers gently in his grip. "Narcissa," he breathed softly in his thick accent. "Don't you understand? I don't want to put you in danger. I don't want you to have even more to fear from your father, from Bellatrix."

Narcissa dropped her eyes.

"And I know," he said, looking grieved, "that you think Bellatrix wouldn't hurt you, but I've seen what she can do, Narcissa. The fact that you still believe in her says a great deal more about _your_ ability to love than hers."

Narcissa closed her eyes, because she knew he was right.

Fingertips came to rest on her jaw, and the sensation was so different than before with Thaddeus. She had wanted to see how it felt to be touched by someone other than Iain, and the results had been intolerable. Iain's fingertips left a spot of warmth on her otherwise cold and unfeeling body, a touch of rejuvenation and life. Nothing else did that.

Narcissa opened her eyes to see Iain's face near hers.

"I'm sorry," he whispered so sincerely it made her heart hurt. "I'm sorry I ran away, and then I stayed away. I just – I didn't know what to do, and then I was afraid if I talked to you… I don't know." He closed his eyes as well, letting his head drop even though his fingers remained on her face. He inhaled, his touch on her skin trembling. "I just want you to be safe."

Narcissa reached for him and pulled him closer. "But I can be safe, even with you. We can be just like before… only more, don't you think?"

Iain made a small miserable huff. "No, I don't think that at all. It was hard enough before… And besides," he looked up at her, despairing, "I don't want to be your shameful secret."

Narcissa whimpered. "But you wouldn't be _shameful_ – I mean, that's not what I want – "

"No, what you want, Narcissa," he interrupted, lifting his eyes to hers, "is for me to treat you like my girlfriend in private when you won't even treat me like a person in public."

A fresh dagger of agony ripped through Narcissa's heart, and her tears renewed, pouring down her face in an onslaught she was powerless against. Iain looked up and saw her face, and regret passed over his features. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, now sounding teary himself, "that sounded harsh – I mean, I know – I know in my head, why you have to do that, but in my heart – "

"No, you're right," said Narcissa, crying. "I could only be a shadow of a partner to you. And you deserve – " she put a hand over her face, trying not to sob. "You deserve better than that. Better than me."

"That's not true," he said heatedly. "Narcissa, I didn't mean that – "

Narcissa moved as if to leave, but Iain took a hold of her hand. "Please, Narcissa, listen to me." He moved closer, pushing back the covers – he was wearing shorts – and taking both of her hands in his. "Damn it, Narcissa, do you know how hard I tried _not_ to feel this way about you? I tried so damn hard!" Reaching up a hand, he swept it over her cheek and smoothed away her tears. "I thought if I stayed with Abigail - if I really tried – that I could just be your friend, and be grateful for that. That's why I was so upset the night in the prefect's bath. Because I bloody messed up. And I knew there was no going back after that."

He bowed his head, taking in a deep breath before continuing.

"Narcissa," he murmured, looking up to meet her gaze with a look that took her breath away, "I know why you can't be with me. I know why you have to marry a rich pureblood, and I can understand it." His voice cracked a little. "But I still hate it. And I wish I could save you from all of that, but I can't. And we can't hide, either." He scowled. "I'm not like you, Narcissa. Everything I feel shows on my face, all the time."

His fingers flexed and smoothed over her knuckles, rough skin against soft.

"So if you and I were together," he whispered, "how would I be able to look at you and not smile? Anyone who saw me would know right away. I would never be able to hide it."

A tear slipped down his cheek. "And I just – I don't know what to do – because I've been miserable without you, but…" He sighed deeply, looking defeated. "But I'm afraid that in the end, you'd figure out you needed to be with some rich pureblood anyway. And when it came time for school to end, we would… " he looked up at her, features contorted with sadness. "Nothing would be different, once we graduated. We still wouldn't be able to be together. You would do what you needed to do, and marry someone else. And I wouldn't blame you."

Another tear dropped down his cheek. "I can't offer you any of the things they can. I want to. I wish I could. But…" he trailed off, closing his eyes again and bringing up both of her hands to settle on his upraised knees. He bowed his head against them, his forehead resting against her knuckles as he kept his fingers curled over hers. "I'm sorry," he whispered at last, barely audible.

The pair fell silent. Under the darkness of the late night, shifting slowly into the early hours of the morning, they sat on the shadowy bed wrapped in the silencing charms and curtains. Narcissa blinked slowly, beads of water sticking to her eyelashes.

She thought about her family, about her sisters. She recalled her memories with her friends, and her efforts with Thaddeus, their talk. She thought about her mother, and how she'd looked on that last night, lingering in the chair and bidding them good-night. Narcissa realized then that her mother knew, while she tucked them into bed that night, that she was going to die. She had planned to leave them, and she had said her good-byes.

Druella Black's death had been the only thing in her life she'd ever been able to decide on her own. It had been, Narcissa understood at that moment, the only vestige of control she'd had in all her years. Perhaps that was why Druella had seemed so at peace. She was happy to finally, at last, do something for herself, even if that had been death.

Narcissa's heart twisted. She did not want that to happen to her, to live her life with the knowledge that the only facet she may ever have control over is the way in which she dies. Her eyes lifted to Iain.

"I'll give up on Lucius Malfoy," she whispered.

Iain slowly raised his head, eyes wide.

Narcissa watched him unblinkingly. "I won't even talk to him. Not him, or anyone else."

"But Narcissa," murmured Iain, still holding her hands. "You said he was your future, your way out – "

"I was wrong," she said softly. "I don't want him. I want you."

Iain's lips parted, and Narcissa edged closer and placed a hand at his jaw, thumb stroking the stubble near his chin. "So if you can hide, just for a little while… just until we finish Hogwarts, until I'm of age and no longer under my father's control… then I swear to you, things will be different." She met his gaze squarely. "I will be with you in every way. And to hell with everyone else."

The look on Iain's face was a mixture of shock and amazement, and then it shifted further into a cautious look of hope that grew brighter and brighter with every passing moment. "Do you mean it?" he asked. "But… But what about your sisters?"

Narcissa bit her lip. "I will just have to hope they understand," she said in a small voice. The thought of losing them was a blade to Narcissa's soul, but she could not live solely for her sisters. She had to live for herself. She had to, or she would die just like Druella. Iain stared at her for so long, she began to fear he would reject her.

"Iain…?" she said, before she was suddenly in his grip, pulled tight against him in a desperate embrace. Narcissa gasped before relaxing into the hold, letting out a small breathy laugh. "Does that mean you accept?"

"Aye," he whispered into her hair, and she could feel his tremble.

Narcissa tilted up her head, and her lips grazed his chin as his arms around her slowly relaxed. As he looked down at her, Narcissa felt her heart inflate with hope. Finally, finally, she saw what she had been waiting on for days – Iain's smile, true and sincere, just for her. With a shift of his arms, Iain pulled Narcissa up into his lap and settled back against his headboard again with her lying against his chest, her cheek against his shoulder. Narcissa felt herself smile, and air spread through her body, as if she had just taken a breath for the first time in months.

Iain's fingers moved up and tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear, the tip of his finger dragging behind it and trailing down her neck in a featherlight touch that sent her heart racing. His lips pressed to the top of her head.

"I missed you so much," he told her in an agonized whisper.

Narcissa shifted her head up, placing their faces close. "I missed you, too," she said softly, bringing up her closed hands to the center of her chest. "I was miserable," she whispered. "When you left, it hurt my heart."

At this, Iain's eyes shifted to hers. He leaned close again, and their lips brushed. "Then let me make it up to you," came his hoarse voice. Before Narcissa could even process this, Iain pressed his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss she felt all the way to the tips of her toes.

The air flew out of Narcissa's lungs, but she welcomed the sensation; it felt as if every bit of tension in her body shot to the most erogenous parts of her, dedicating a special thrill to each spot Iain touched. Her mouth opened to his, and she felt his tongue once more. Bringing up her arms, she wrapped him in her grip as he moved over her and pressed her back against the bed beneath him, his legs straddling her.

For a moment, they kept the space between them, a distinct layer of emptiness that separated their bodies. But as soon as Iain tilted his head into the kiss, and Narcissa reached up for him, Iain stretched out his arms and legs and their bodies were pressed heatedly together. His body felt so large and secure over hers, and Narcissa welcomed the weight and tucked into the shadow he cast over her. Gasping against Iain's lips, Narcissa wasted no time pushing up against him, arching her body to feel more of him. Her hands dove beneath his white t-shirt, desperate for the feeling of his bare skin. She curled her fingers against his taut muscles, leaving indentions on his torso as she pushed the material up and out of her way.

Iain pulled back with a gasp and reached over his head, tugging off the shirt and falling back over her as soon as it was gone. Then he took her lips with his and expertly guided her movements with his own. Although he still wore his shorts, the way Iain curled his body with each kiss teased of a rhythm, a motion he desperately wanted. Each new kiss found a different part of them pressed firmly together, the pressure growing each time. Iain's hand dropped down to Narcissa's thigh and pushed up her nightgown, fingers spread as he slid his palm all the way up her soft skin and gripped her hip. Their mouths moved together, tongues pressing, eyes closed, and hands searching.

Narcissa reached up and shoved a hand through his hair, never wanting him to pull away, to leave her without this heat. She could feel him, just like before in the pool, hard and aching against her. It was the most desire Narcissa had ever felt in her life, and the intense grip of his hands against her skin only added fuel to the fire.

She reached around him, gripping him low at his back and urging his hips against hers. Iain complied, rocking against her with a groan and pulling his mouth away from hers to pant against her neck, which he kissed and then grazed his teeth over, lips pressing against the red areas he created.

A noise that Narcissa could do nothing to stop escaped her, a whimper that turned into a groan. Her toes curled, and she tugged him even closer to her, causing him to hiss at the friction. His larger body over hers trembled, and Iain reached up, grabbing one of the hands she used to hold him and pulling it away to the bed. His eyes lifted to hers again, and oh, there was that look she'd seen before, that darkness that spoke of strained self-control, of desire, of want. She had wanted desperately to see that again, to be the cause of it.

"Narcissa," he breathed, "we should stop. You haven't – done this – before – "

Narcissa reached up and curled her other hand behind his neck, forcing him to look at her, to see how much she wanted him. Her body screamed for touch, and she knew his was the very same, but he was still trying to take care of her, to make sure this was what she wanted. If anything, that made her all the more certain of her choice.

"I don't care," she managed, her heart thudding so loudly she could hear it in her ears, feel it in the tips of her fingers. "I want it to be you, Iain. I don't plan on being with anyone else. Ever." When Iain still hesitated, despite his own arousal, Narcissa pulled him closer to her.

"Please," she whispered, her lips moving against the skin of his cheek, near his ear. "Don't leave me wanting again."

Iain's wide eyes shifted to her face, and for a moment, she was incredibly fearful of what he might do - or not do. She truly thought she might die if he turned her away now. Instead of leaving her, though, Iain dipped his head to hers and kissed her deeply. She knew in that moment that he did not plan to leave her unsatisfied, perhaps ever again.

Shifting to the side, Iain reached for the tie on Narcissa's robe and tugged it apart, moving an arm around her to lift her up as effortlessly as if she were a rag doll and then pushing the robe off her shoulders. At the same moment, he caught her mouth with his again and Narcissa felt sparks travel through every inch of her body. In seconds, she was against the bed again, and this time Iain had the hem of her nightgown bunched in his hand. He pushed it up slowly, and with his other hand, he smoothed his fingers over the strap of her underwear and the sharp jutting bone of her hip, up onto her stomach and then higher still. Before it could reach her breasts, Iain had pushed her nightgown up and over her head, and Narcissa complied, too.

For a moment, she felt too heated and dizzy to be embarrassed about her nakedness. Then, as Iain paused to look at her, she remembered how the other girls sometimes made fun of her because she was too skinny, and rather small in the chest. However, when she looked up at Iain's face, he had that same look he'd always had for her – complete amazement, unparalleled adoration. Leaning up, he gave her a slow kiss that was less heated and more comforting than all the others. It seemed to be everything Iain was, wrapped up in a single motion.

"You are," he told her, both his hands reaching up to her face, "the most beautiful person I have ever met."

Then he leaned against her, bare torso to hers, skin to skin, and Narcissa's head swam at the sensation. Shyness gone, she melted into his embrace and sank into his words, knowing that he was the most honest person she knew, and she could trust him. Their lips met once more, and Iain raked his large hand over her chest, causing shivers to jump down the center of her belly to her groin.

When she felt the cloth of his shorts pressing against her over his hardness, Narcissa reached down and, with shaky fingers, took the cloth band and pushed it down. Iain reached his hand to help her, and when they were off, he tossed them to the end of the bed and pressed over her. Narcissa felt that shiver from before, and she was grateful for the shadows, which helped ease some of anxiety about her body – and his. It was all so new to her, and Iain knew this, so he eased against her gently and slowed his kisses, giving her time and space to breathe and relax. He must have been feeling every bit as frenzied as she was, but he still catered to her, matching her speed instead of making his own.

At last, Narcissa reached down and pushed off her underwear, letting Iain's hand cover hers as they pulled the garment away and dropped it to the edge of the bed. With the next gentle kiss, Narcissa reached up for Iain and he finally came to rest against her. Feeling his entire bare body against hers was a shock, but as soon as Iain smoothed his hand over her thigh, all the urgency and desire came rushing back to her with such force that it left her quivering. Their kisses grew heated once more, and Narcissa could feel the tension in the muscles of Iain's arms as he fought to be slow for her.

She didn't want him to slow down for her. She was tougher than she looked; she could take it.

Emboldened by passion, Narcissa pressed one hand to his chest and the other reached lower. She didn't exactly know what to do, but she'd heard things and read them, too, so she had a pretty good idea of what to expect. Parted lips pressed against his in an open-mouthed kiss, Narcissa wrapped her fingers around his length and gave it a gentle squeeze.

A strangled noise escaped Iain, and he dropped his forehead against her shoulder, pushing into her hand. She could feel the heat of his body over hers, the thin layer of perspiration that had formed despite the chill in the air. After a few strokes, Iain reached down and removed her hand.

"Am I doing it wrong?" she asked, teasing and breathless.

Iain shook his head, lips quirked as he fought to clear the haze in his eyes. "Just don't want to embarrass myself," he told her in a low rough voice that sent chills down her spine. Then he dropped his mouth to her neck and lowered his hand between her legs, smoothing his hand over hers with just enough pressure to make her whimper. Then he spoke against her collarbone. "Are you ready?"

Narcissa didn't hesitate. "Yes," she breathed, arching up into his touch as his hand moved between her legs, slipping a finger inside just for a moment to prepare her. That only lasted a few seconds before he was completely over her again. Narcissa gripped his bicep as he curled against her and pressed inside, slowly and carefully. Her lips parted in a gasp against his collarbone, and the heat in her skin climbed even higher.

Biting her lip, Narcissa fell back against the bed and arched her back against the sensation, which was so curiously strange and exhilarating at the same time. After only a few partial thrusts, Iain pressed into her fully with little resistance, and they both tucked against each other and groaned. A squeak escaped Narcissa, and for a moment, she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Then Iain turned his head and pressed a tender kiss to her neck, and she felt herself exhale, her body relaxing. When she turned her head to his again, Iain kissed her lips and thrust again, locking their bodies together and eliminating all the space between them.

Any discomfort quickly faded, and within just a few moments, Narcissa was rocking to meet his every movement, her hands scrambling to cover as much skin as possible. Iain pressed his forehead against hers, his body molding to hers with every motion, filling her with that sort of delicious pressure she'd experienced first in the prefect's bath. Each thrust seemed to touch a new part of her, and she kept her lips parted, panting and whimpering each time. Iain said her name once, and then again, sounding more desirous every time, more captivated. The thrill from hearing his voice that way - practically delirious with pleasure, just for her - was indescribable.

Just when Narcissa was sure the pressure inside of her could grow no more, Iain reached for her and lifted her up. Without breaking away from her, he rolled over onto his back and brought her with him, so that she was suddenly straddling him. Narcissa's eyes widened, as she had never even considered the thought of being – well, up _here_. Iain reached for her and pulled her down to him, kissing her slowly and reaching a hand to her hip, urging it forward. Instinctively, Narcissa rolled her hips against him, and the resulting pleasure from this new position caused her to cry out.

Within seconds, she had Iain's face in her hands and her torso bent over his, her body rocking against him in a motion that became natural and easy in just a few movements. Narcissa lifted her torso and bit her lip, eyes closed as her head turned up at the top of the bed canopy. Her lips parted, she moved against him over and over again until – within just minutes – she felt her body tense up all around him, the sensation sudden and jarring. She planted her hands on his chest and let out a cry.

"Oh, fuck," groaned Iain, suddenly flipping her over onto her back again and pulling away from her, his lips parted against the center of her chest and his hand diving between them. He cried out against her as Narcissa came down from her own shockwaves, and for the next several seconds, the two of them simply caught their breaths. Slowly, Iain relaxed at her side, partially against her.

"Are you alright?" he asked her as soon as he could manage, and Narcissa turned her head to give him a breathless smile and a nod. Iain's features relaxed, but when Narcissa shifted to turn on her side, he held up his hand to stop her. "Wait, wait – " he laughed just a bit. "Er, hang on – "

Curious, Narcissa watched as he reached for his wand and ducked beneath the covers, which partially covered them. Narcissa heard him mutter a charm and then he reappeared and set his wand aside. "What was that?" asked Narcissa. "A contraceptive spell?"

"Oh, no," he said, looping an arm around her waist. "Those are dangerous. Madeline Prewitt turned all her organs into mush when she tried it."

"Oh, I heard about that," said Narcissa, as if this conversation was the most normal thing in the world.

Iain cleared his throat. "No, er, that was just a cleaning spell. I had to – well, pull … away, from you." At Narcissa's look of confusion, he raised a brow, and she let out a little 'Oh!' of understanding. Giggling a little, turned into him and curled against his chest, wanting to stay there forever. It still felt so strange, having his bare body against hers, but it thrilled her. "I'm stupid," he told her, sweeping some hair back from her face. "I should've just worn a condom."

"A what?" asked Narcissa.

His lips quirked. "I'll explain later." His thumb swept tenderly over her cheek, and Narcissa felt happiness like never before in her life.

"I know I should leave," she admitted in a whisper. "But I don't want to." She stroked his collarbone with a single digit.

He looked over her face, and oh, how she loved him so much. She knew it then, that feeling that had been lingering in her heart. "Sleep for a little while," he told her, tucking his forehead against hers. "I'll stay awake and make sure you get out."

"Alright," replied Narcissa with a brilliant smile, which he returned. She tucked against him, making a soft noise of contentment. After a few seconds, she asked in a sleepy whisper, "So what shall you and I do? Once we are done with Hogwarts and have the rest of our lives together?"

Iain chuckled and curled her close. "Anything we want," he whispered.

* * *

Author's Note: -cries forever-


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I really wanted to finish up my other story, so that kind of took precedence. If you're following along with The Sacred 28, that story is now complete!

And why am I already thinking of an entire story for Maggie? And then Athena? I have an actual novel to write. ;-; I've been writing fanfiction since I was twelve years old, which makes for a total of sixteen years. Good lort.

* * *

In the hour just before dawn, Narcissa felt a pair of lips brush against her cheek.

"Wake up, Cissa," came the quiet voice.

Stirring, Narcissa's eyes fluttered and then opened. Her surroundings came to her in pieces, floating gently as if from the distant corners of many dreams. She felt strong arms around her and the heat of someone else's skin. She sensed the stirring of the bed curtains and the rumpled sheets.

But most of all, she felt – rather than heard – Iain's voice.

Tilting up her head, Narcissa looked up to see his face near hers. "It wasn't a dream," she murmured with a slow smile. Her hand traced Iain's freckled skin, all the way up his arm to a scar on his shoulder. Iain had a lot of scars, she knew now. Given how active he was, that was no surprise. It seemed he told her a new story each day about falling from a tree or rough-housing his way into a wall. It was a wonder he was still alive.

"It wasn't a dream," he confirmed, reaching up his fingers and brushing Narcissa's loose hair from her face. His expression was a wondrous thing to behold; if only half of the world held as much love as Iain did, it would be a better place. "But we do have to get you back," he told her, and Narcissa felt the last vestiges of the dreamscape tremble and disappear. It was back to reality for them.

But reality now had a different path, an option Narcissa had never known. And it was glorious.

Still, Narcissa would not be Narcissa if she did not complain a little. Puckering her lips in a pout, she turned her face into his bare chest and tried to wiggle out of sight by tucking into the blankets. They were both still completely naked, and Narcissa absolutely loved it. This, she thought, drawing under the covers and into the darkness, was all hers.

Iain made a little strangled sound when Narcissa shimmied down his body and planted a kiss on his lower stomach. "Agh – Narcissa – "

"Hmmm?" came her voice from under the covers.

Iain made a half-hearted attempt to stop her, and Narcissa smirked from her hiding spot. Then she kissed lower still, and she heard a _thunk_ that could have only been Iain's skull against his headboard. "We have to – get you back – " He gasped when Narcissa took his erect member in her hand and licked the tip before taking it into her mouth. Iain pressed both hands over his face. "Mother of god," he groaned.

Narcissa peeked out from under the covers, her right hand still wrapped firmly around him, moving up and down at a steady rhythm. "Would you like for me to stop?"

Iain dropped his hands. "Well," he managed after a swallow, "this is only going to last about thirty seconds anyway, so we've probably – ah! – got time."

Giggling, Narcissa went back to work.

In the end, it lasted longer than thirty seconds – but not by much. "I'm going to get you back for that," said Iain once he'd recovered, pulling her against him.

"I certainly hope so," replied Narcissa with a smirk.

Iain prodded her in the arm. "Come on, now." Narcissa made a face and sat up, and Iain caught her mouth with his before she could pull too far away. "Believe me, I don't want you to go either," he told her softly, and Narcissa felt her heart lift.

"When we're done with school," she said, tracing her fingers down his chest, "we won't have to hide anymore. And we can be in bed together all day."

"I like the sound of that," admitted Iain cheekily.

Narcissa giggled, reaching for her robe, nightgown, and underwear. Iain pulled on his shorts and gestured for her to wait. Then he peeked out of his closed bed curtains and saw no one. Slipping out, he looked all around and then moved to signal for Narcissa.

"Iain?"

Iain stumbled over his own feet, immediately dropping the curtain hiding Narcissa. "Henry," he greeted, just as the other Hufflepuff boy – one of his dormmates – squinted at him. Henry's hair was rumpled and he'd clearly just woken up. Now he was eyeing Iain oddly. "You're up early," Iain pointed out, shifting from one foot to the other.

Henry pointed. "Going to the loo," he said.

"Uh, me too," said Iain, before waving his hand awkwardly. "You go first, though. Really."

Henry's brows furrowed. "There's more than one," he noted. Iain hesitated at this, and Henry tilted his head, peering at Iain's bed, where the curtains were drawn. After a moment, Henry grinned a bit. "Do you have a girl in your bed?"

Iain's eyes widened, and he made a squeaking noise. "What?" he asked in a poor attempt at incredulity, putting his hands on his hips. "… No."

Together, Iain and Henry looked to the bed. Narcissa's small dainty foot was sticking out just a few inches. As they watched, she yanked it back out of sight. Henry's eyes flickered back to Iain, deeply amused as he watched his friend get more and more flustered. At last, Henry held up his hand.

"Right, mate, so I'm just – going to – go to the loo now," Henry said, chuckling. "And you just… do whatever." Then he sauntered off, still laughing, and disappeared out of the door.

Iain let out a breath of relief and quickly turned back to the bed, snatching up one of his own hooded cloaks and wrapping it securely around her. "Does he know it was me?" squeaked Narcissa, and Iain shook his head, pulling the hood over her hair.

"No, but if he did, it would be all your fault," he told her, and Narcissa stuck her tongue out at him. With a hand on her back, Iain hurriedly guided Narcissa out of the dormitory and into the empty common room. Finally, they made it to the door, and Iain went first, jumping out into the corridor to make sure no one was around.

Narcissa came out after him and swiftly turned to face him, catching his face with her hands as he leaned down to kiss her. "I'll see you tonight in our room," he told her, and Narcissa squeezed his hands before she hurried off, looking back over her shoulder one last time at Iain standing at the entrance of Hufflepuff, watching her go.

"Good-bye," she whispered, before rushing off to the Slytherin dungeons.

* * *

Narcissa managed to get into her dormitory without waking anyone up. After that, she fell into bed and slept for the next five hours, not waking up again until just before lunch. It hardly mattered, as it was a Sunday, and Narcissa awoke feeling better than she ever had in her life.

Pleased, Narcissa got up and showered before going down into the Slytherin Common Room, where many people were lounging about. She smirked at them. _I hate all of you,_ she thought cheerfully. _And after school, I won't have to deal with a single one of you! Go die!_

"Well, well," came Ellaria's voice. Narcissa's sadistic pleasure was re-directed, and she turned it on the approaching girl. "You look mighty pleased today, Narcissa. Have something to do with how late you came in this morning?"

Narcissa's expression fell into a blank mask. Damn, so someone _had_ seen her.

"Where were you coming from, I wonder?" asked Ellaria, and now many of the others were looking up at her, including many of her "friends." Some of the girls giggled, their expressions wildly curious.

"None of your business," said Narcissa smoothly.

"Oh, come on," said Sybil, leaning over. "We're your friends. You can tell us."

Narcissa barely kept from rolling her eyes. Sybil was acting like they were only asking for a friendly secret, and yet they were interrogating her in front of the entire Common Room. Wretched she-wolves.

"Go ahead and try to keep it a secret," went on Ellaria, giggling. "We'll figure it out eventually."

Narcissa's jaw tightened.

"No need for that, ladies," cut in a voice from the side, and Narcissa turned to see Thaddeus Carrow appear at her side. "Right, Narcissa?" He winked at her. "Thanks for going to the Quidditch match with me, by the way. It was … _quite_ the evening."

Ellaria gasped, and the other girls giggled and wiggled their eyebrows. One of the other boys clapped Thaddeus on the shoulder, and Narcissa did roll her eyes this time, even as her lips quirked with a hint of relief.

"Indeed," said Narcissa coyly to Thaddeus. "Perhaps if you're lucky, you'll one day earn another."

Thaddeus grinned. "I certainly hope so." He extended a hand to her. "Can I take you to lunch? My treat."

Amused, Narcissa accepted his hand and left the Common Room with him, linking her arm with his. As soon as they were away from the others, Narcissa gave him a Look. "What?" said Thaddeus, snickering. "I just helped both of us."

They walked in the direction of the Great Hall. "You'd better not go telling all your stupid friends you slept with me," she warned him, and Thaddeus snorted.

"Like I'd even know what kind of details to give," he said, and Narcissa laughed, squeezing his arm as they entered the Great Hall.

"So," said Thaddeus, dropping his voice to a mischievous whisper. "Where were you _really_?"

"Not telling," said Narcissa primly, and Thaddeus sighed.

"Damn. And here I thought I'd get to live vicariously through you."

"You will get to live through yourself," she told him. "One day. When the world is a bit more understanding and a lot less stupid."

Thaddeus raised a brow at her. "Yeah? When do you think that'll be?"

"No idea," admitted Narcissa. "But when I finish school, I'm saying to hell with everyone else and doing what I want. You should, too."

Thaddeus smiled as he led her to a seat. "That's a good idea," he said. "You and I can have parties together, too. And we'll all be with who we like."

Narcissa turned to face him. "Exactly," she said, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to comfort him. She wanted him to feel like she did, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders and her heart had been filled. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "And you can walk me down the aisle at my wedding, too," she whispered to him with a smile.

Thaddeus grinned fully at this. "I'd be honored," he said, before gesturing to the seat. Narcissa took it.

Together, they ate lunch and then went their separate ways. Narcissa spent most of the daylight catching up on schoolwork, even though it was rather difficult to concentrate. She kept smiling and daydreaming, unable to think of anything other than Iain.

Finally, evening fell, and Narcissa forced herself not to run on her way to their secret classroom. As soon as she slipped into the door and shut it behind her, she felt arms curl around her torso and pull her close.

"There you are," murmured Iain, pressing a kiss to her neck. Narcissa twisted in his arms, locking the door behind her with a wave of her wand before she pulled her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Here I am," she whispered, eyes twinkling.

"Did anyone see you this morning?" he asked, turning her in his grip and walking her, without letting go, all the way over to the pile of crates that always hid them from the front door. He lifted her up onto one and settled between her legs, his hands on her hips. Narcissa ran her fingers along his, smiling brilliantly.

"Oh, someone did, yes. But it's alright. Thaddeus helped cover for me."

Iain made a face. "Ah, yeah, Thaddeus. I saw you two at lunch today," he said, shifting a little and losing his smile. Narcissa blinked in confusion, but then she remembered – ah, yes. She'd used Thaddeus to make Iain jealous, and then she'd kissed his cheek right in front of everyone. Bugger.

"Oh Iain, you don't have to worry about Thaddeus," Narcissa told him earnestly.

He looked up at her skeptically. "You were just on a date with him yesterday," he pointed out.

"To make you jealous!" said Narcissa. "I was just using him."

Iain made a face. "That wasn't nice of you, Narcissa."

Narcissa scoffed. "Oh, he was using me, too. It was a mutually superficial exchange." When Iain still didn't seem comforted, she tugged him closer and swept her hands through his hair, letting one thumb graze the stubble on his chin. She secretly loved it when he didn't shave for a few days. "Really, Iain. Thaddeus is my friend, but you have no reason to worry about him. I have no feelings for him at all, and even if I did, he – " she stopped herself.

"He what?" asked Iain curiously.

Narcissa bit her lip. "I promised I wouldn't tell. But take my word for it, please. Even if he was madly in love with me – which he isn't – it wouldn't matter an ounce. Not when I have you."

At this, Iain seemed to finally relax, and Narcissa dropped her head to kiss his lips. Her eyes closed, and she kept their faces close. "No one means half as much to me as you do," she promised him softly.

Iain's grip on her tightened, and when she opened her eyes, he kissed her again, trailing his fingertips down her neck. The simple motion sent shivers down her spine. "How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

"Wonderful," she told him confidently. Iain raised both brows at her, lips quirked. Narcissa made a face, flushing a little. "And a bit sore," she admitted. "It's okay, though. I've read that's normal." She held out her arms to Iain, who lifted her from the crate and settled her on the floor on the nest of blankets they always left there. It was a space just near the window, and even though it was just an abandoned corner, lined with cobwebs and often very cold, Narcissa loved it because it was theirs.

Sitting with her back against Iain's front, Narcissa relaxed into his arms and closed her eyes, content as she'd never been in her life. "Iain," she said after a little while, her heart thumping as she thought about all their possible futures together. "When we finish school, would you like for me to work or stay at home?"

Iain's lips brushed her neck. "You do whatever you want to do, Narcissa. I'll take care of you as much or as little as you want."

Narcissa's lips curled into a smile. "I've never considered working before," she admitted. "But it's exciting to think about."

"What sort of job would you like to do?" he asked, lightly tracing his fingers over her knuckles.

Narcissa considered this for a while, running her mind through all the possibilities. She was an excellent student, but she had never considered which of the subjects were her favorites, or where she had talents. It had never mattered. "I don't know," she realized, brows furrowed. "No one has ever asked me that before." She curled her fingers into his, studying their joined digits. "What if I'm not good at anything?"

"You're brilliant," Iain told her, using his free hand to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. "Smarter than me, that's for sure. I'll bet you can do whatever you set your mind to."

Narcissa's lips quirked, and she fell silent as she thought. After a little while, she said, "Do you know what I would really like to do?"

Iain shifted a little. "Hm?"

Narcissa's eyes turned to the window, where night was spreading into the sky and scattering stars in the wake of the sunset. "I would like to start a school," she said.

Iain chuckled. "Like Hogwarts?"

"Not quite," said Narcissa. "More like Madam Lebelle's Finishing School, except better in every way. Instead, my school would be a place for witches to go after their main schooling, so they wouldn't be forced to go right into marriages or turn out on their own." Narcissa paused to ponder, and this made her smile as she imagined it all in her head. "They could have two more years to grow and become themselves. They could learn their talents and their strengths. And they'd learn more than just etiquette and manners. At my school, young witches could really prepare themselves for the world," said Narcissa wistfully. "Girls there could study history and languages and – even dueling, for those who want to go on and become Aurors! And they could do it with other witches from all around the world, women they'd never had the chance to meet before. It could be – " Narcissa paused, her eyes fluttering. "It could be a sisterhood. A new family."

Narcissa raised her eyes to Iain's. "Seventeen is so young, and everyone I know is so focused on marriage. That's fine enough, but with a school like this, there could be an option. Young witches from anywhere could go and – really grow themselves, you know? So that even if they chose to stay home after that, at least they'd be older, wiser, and more knowledgeable than before."

Iain looked over her face, a curled finger near the line of her jaw. "I think that sounds perfect, Narcissa," he told her. Narcissa bit her lip, frowning. "What is it?" he asked gently.

Narcissa shrugged. "I just wish a place like that already existed," she admitted in a murmur.

Iain pulled her close. "If anyone can make it happen, Narcissa, it's you."

Pressing her cheek against Iain's chest, Narcissa hummed in agreement. They spent the rest of the evening the way, talking and cuddling, always skin to skin somewhere.

"Just a little while longer," Narcissa promised him when they parted. "Once we're through with next year, it will be the two of us."

Iain smiled and kissed her. "Good," he told her, squeezing her hands before he left to return to Hufflepuff's dormitories.

* * *

The next few weeks flew by for Narcissa. It was wonderful to know she had Iain, and the time they spent alone together was amazing. They didn't often have the time or privacy to get as intimate as they had in the Sixth Year Boys dormitory, but they made do. Each encounter was all the more special because of it, and Narcissa loved it.

Still, things weren't always easy. As Iain had pointed out to Narcissa, it was not easy for him to keep from revealing their secret. Each time they were in class together, Iain – who already had enough trouble paying attention in class – would glance at her from time to time, sometimes looking pleased and other times unsettled. Narcissa quickly figured out Iain's occasional discomfort with her in class was because she was so very good at hiding, while he was not.

"Wish I had as easy a time of it as you," he told her one evening in their classroom. He seemed to be attempting a light tone, but it failed miserably. "You never even look at me in class. And I can't help but look at you."

Narcissa's brows furrowed, and she moved over to him, planting herself in his lap. "Iain, you know why that is. I've spent my whole life hiding behind a mask." Leaning close, she kissed him gently on the cheek. "It's certainly not for any lack of affection for you."

This seemed to make Iain feel a little better, so Narcissa continued, peppering his cheek and neck with kisses until he was laughing. After that, Narcissa made a concerted effort to be as affectionate with him as possible during their private time together, even though it was not in her nature to do so. Iain was a physical person in every sense of the word; he was active, athletic, hands-on, and openly loving. To him, it was unnatural to see Narcissa – or anyone he cared about – and not embrace them, or clap them on the arm, or take their hand. Narcissa was the opposite, but she didn't mind Iain's differences. It was just unfortunate that she had to spurn him in public, as it seemed to hurt his feelings, even when he understood her reasoning.

So she made up for it whenever they were alone together, kissing him as soon as they met, curling her fingers over his skin and remaining close to him the entire time. This seemed to help a great deal, and Narcissa felt very proud of herself.

After a month, Iain was doing much better with his own efforts at remaining aloof in public, and Narcissa's reassurances in private were helpful for them both.

Still, sometimes Iain would slip up. He often thought things and immediately said them – another side-effect of his ridiculously honest Hufflepuff personality – and so sometimes he would turn to her in class, prepared to tell her a new thought. Then he would blink, jerk away, and mutter to himself, as if he couldn't stifle the comment no matter how hard he tried.

Narcissa was always forced to watch this with a flat glare, even while she inwardly rolled her eyes and giggled.

"What was it _today_?" she asked him one afternoon. "You looked right at me in class!"

"I don't even remember now," he admitted sheepishly, reclining against the blankets with Narcissa's head on his shoulder. "I think I wanted to show you a cartoon I drew."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Why were you drawing cartoons in class?"

"Because it's boring," he said flatly, and Narcissa snickered. "I don't like being in class. I want to be outside."

"I know," said Narcissa dryly. "You're like a stubborn little weed, forever determined to be in the grass."

"Speaking of grass," said Iain, "I saw Corinne Lestrange knock some little boy out of her path today and send him rolling down a hill. She is seriously the worst person."

"I know," agreed Narcissa with a sigh. "We just need to stay out of her way."

To Narcissa's surprise, Iain scoffed. "I'm not scared of Corinne Lestrange."

Brows furrowed, Narcissa lifted her head to look at him. She shifted onto her elbow. "You should be," she told him quite seriously. "She nearly beat you at Christmas."

Still, Iain just shrugged. "She may be a skilled duelist, but what does she weigh, like six stones? If she didn't have her wand, I could overpower her with one hand." He looked over at Narcissa's stricken face. "What?"

"Iain," Narcissa said, sitting up. Iain sat up with her. "You need to stop thinking about this like a Muggle. It doesn't matter if you are physically stronger than Corinne. She can still beat you, and she will."

"Not if she doesn't have her wand," pointed out Iain. "Without her wand, she's just an angry little girl who barely comes up to my shoulder – "

"Iain!" interrupted Narcissa sharply. "Listen to me very carefully. You were not raised amongst witches and wizards, and so you do not truly understand how they work. But if you learn nothing else, you must know this: wands are simply conduits of magic. They are not its source." She leaned close. "If you back a powerful witch like Corinne into a corner, she will retaliate… wand or no wand."

Iain's eyes lowered as he thought about this.

"Do you understand?" asked Narcissa, gripping his hand.

"Aye," he said at last.

"Good." Narcissa kissed his lips, and they both relaxed a little. "Just stay away from her. If you see her in the halls, get out of her sight as quickly as you can. Got it?"

Iain nodded. "I will. I promise."

Satisfied, Narcissa kissed his cheek, though a trickle of anxiety still lingered in her chest.

They left the room a little while later, and as they were sneaking through the corridors together, they ran into a pair of students kissing heatedly against a wall near a seldom used corner. Iain jerked back to hide Narcissa, but she peeked out anyway.

"Thaddeus?" she said, and the boy jumped away from – well, the other boy. For a moment, both couples stared at each other, horrified. Iain stared, and the boy hiding behind Thaddeus – Elliot was his name – seemed equally stunned.

Thaddeus and Narcissa, though, looked at each other for only a split-second before they both burst out laughing.

"You'd better find a more private place to snog!" Narcissa told him, grabbing Iain's hand and leading him away as Thaddeus snagged Elliot's sleeve and pulled him in the opposite direction.

"Bye Narcissa!" Thaddeus called to them in a loud whisper, before he and the bewildered Elliot hurried off.

"See?" said Narcissa just before she parted with Iain. She grinned. "Nothing to worry about."

"Definitely not," agreed Iain with a snicker. "Concern absolved."

* * *

Author's Note: I know this is relatively brief, but things really get moving next chapter and this was just the best place to cut things off. Thanks guys!


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: I got some pretty upsetting news today, and there's nothing I can do about it, so I decided to channel it into this extremely emotional chapter. So here you go.

* * *

_The next few months were among the best of my life. Iain and I grew more comfortable as a couple – not that it took long – and we began to figure out how to work our relationship so that it wasn't obvious in public. However, in private, we were as happy as can be, always planning for our future and thinking excitedly about what was to come._

_My birthday came in February, and we celebrated together. Finally, I was seventeen years old, legally able to perform magic outside of Hogwarts, an adult at last. I think Iain was most comforted because I could now use my magic to defend myself. He seemed certain I would need it, though he never voiced any specific opinions. For once, I wasn't anxious. Easter break approached, and I heard nothing from my family. To me, that was a good sign. The larger the distance between myself and my father, the better._

_From this moment on, I thought, it was Iain and myself together. We were strong, and we would persevere. These were the thoughts that gave me all the confidence I needed, all the hope and love. We truly believed in our future together._

_Little did we know just how ill-fated our romance was, and how soon it would be crushed._

* * *

"I learned a new song for you," said Iain.

Narcissa's lips curled at a smile.

It was April, and both she and Iain had opted not to go home for Easter. Unfortunately, many other older students always remained for Easter break as well, given the proximity to mid-terms, which meant Iain and Narcissa did not have the castle to themselves as they had last time. So while Hogwarts would reach a place of rest for some in the next few days, many of the sixth and seventh years would also remain, trying their best to finish assignments.

Which was what Iain and Narcissa were _supposed_ to be doing. Iain, though, kept getting distracted.

"Oh?" said Narcissa. "What song?"

Iain set aside his book and lifted his guitar in the air. Then he gestured for her to come over, and she did, sliding between his legs and pressing her back against his chest. As always, her heart gave a flutter as Iain wrapped his arms around her and placed the guitar against her legs. Narcissa loosely placed her hands over Iain's, and he began to play.

" _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_ ," he sang, " _take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life… You were only waiting for this moment to arise_."

Narcissa beamed, curling closer to him.

" _Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life… You were only waiting for this moment to be free_."

Turning her head so that her cheek pressed into the front of Iain's robes, Narcissa relaxed and smiled, listening to the rest of the song and letting her heart float. After a few more verses, the song came to an end, and Iain set the guitar aside. "Thank you," Narcissa murmured. "It was lovely."

After a few minutes, Narcissa did her best to return to her homework, but Iain clearly wasn't having it. "Do you know what I've been thinking about?" he asked, folding his parchment into shapes instead of writing on it.

Narcissa glanced up from her homework, bemused

"What have you been thinking about, love?" asked Narcissa, turning her eyes back to her parchment.

Iain held up a finger. "When I leave Hogwarts to go home, I have to get on a train in Scotland, ride all the way to London, and then go BACK to Scotland, just to get to Stirling."

Narcissa laughed and shook her head. "So?"

"Just seems impractical," he said. "Seriously, I think Stirling is like… right over there." He pointed in a random direction.

Narcissa put her chin in her hands. "What are you procrastinating on, Iain?" she asked, amused, and Iain deflated and groaned.

"Bloody Transfiguration essay! I don't want to write this!" He let his head fall against the crate behind him; they were in their hidden classroom. Outside, the sun was shining beyond their window, and Iain kept looking at it longingly. "I want to be outside," he whined.

"Iain, you've got to finish," Narcissa said, prodding his book. "You've put it off too long already!"

Her boyfriend looked down at the textbook with a grimace. "I hate writing papers," he mumbled. He looked wistfully to the window again. "Oh!" he said a moment later. "I almost forgot to tell you. Me and some others are getting together and having a big football match on the Quidditch pitch on Thursday. So I won't be here in the evening, but I'll make sure I see you earlier that day."

"A football match?" Narcissa tapped her chin. "That's the ground-Quidditch game?"

"More or less," said Iain with a grin. "Aye, it's a Muggle sport. Lots'a half-bloods know it, too. We've even got house teams formed, and we're going to have a big one-day tournament. I'm playing for Hufflepuff, of course."

"Is there a Slytherin team?" asked Narcissa curiously.

"Believe it or not, yeah," replied Iain. "I think Thaddeus is playing. He's just now learning the game, but he's pretty good. None of the really mean ones are playing or anything, but I think some of them just want to prove they can beat us at our own sport." He rolled his eyes, and Narcissa giggled. "Little do they know," he said, leaning forward and grinning as he climbed over her, pushing her book out of the way, "I am a _supreme_ athlete – so long as it doesn't involve getting more than six feet off the ground."

"And yet such a terrible student," reprimanded Narcissa, doing her best to look stern as Iain gently pressed her back against their nest of blankets and pillows. "Iain, I have to – " he kissed her, and Narcissa began laughing. "Iain! I'm trying to work!"

He moved on to kiss her neck, one strong arm wrapped around her as Narcissa thumped his bicep. "Ow!" He picked up his head, and Narcissa beamed, pulling him into a gentle kiss and then thumping her hand against his chest. "Alright, alright…" Iain pulled himself off of her and then tugged her up into a sitting position, kissing her knuckles before he let them go.

"You just don't want to write your essay," she teased, straightening her hair. "You don't even want to kiss me."

"Oh, now, that is where you're very wrong," said Iain, pulling his arms around her and scooping her up into his lap, placing his chin on her shoulder. "I mean, you're right about the first part. But I'm always ready to kiss you, for sure."

Narcissa hummed happily and continued reading her textbook, making notes as Iain distracted her by walking his fingers up and down her arm and brushing his lips against the back of her neck. He stopped though at the sound of some people outside, and he looked up to see some other students run by, playing with a disc or some nonsense.

Narcissa glanced over her shoulder at him to see his forlorn expression. "Oh, good lord," she said at last, touching her hand to his chin. "Go outside, you baby. I'll make you an outline for your essay so you can get it done tomorrow."

"Really?" exclaimed Iain, before kissing her lips and bouncing up. "You are the best, love. Really. I owe you."

"I know," said Narcissa smoothly. "And you'll pay it back, in due time." She tugged him down for one last kiss. "I wish I could come watch your football game," she admitted in a murmur.

"Me too," he said sincerely, sweeping his hand over her face. "It'd be great to see you cheer me on."

"I'll be there in spirit," she promised. With one last squeeze of his hand, Narcissa let him go, and Iain bound up and out of the room.

* * *

A few days later, in the heart of Easter break, Narcissa spent her Thursday morning taking special care of a manicure she'd been procrastinating. Thaddeus appeared next to her a moment later, dropping himself to one of the couches in the Slytherin Common Room. This jostled Narcissa's table of nail instruments, and she gave him a dirty look.

"Sorry," he said, grinning.

"You almost messed me up!" Narcissa rolled her eyes, then flashed him her hands. "What do you think? This color is called Cauldron Smoke."

Thaddeus raised a brow, leaning on his side and balancing on one elbow. "Why don't they just call it grey?"

Narcissa observed her fingers. "Because it's not just grey! It's Cauldron Smoke! There a ton of shades of grey."

"Since when?" asked Thaddeus skeptically.

Narcissa put down her nail polish. "What do you want?"

Thaddeus sat up. "Are you coming to watch the football game?"

"Of course not," said Narcissa in a hushed voice, alarmed. She looked around, but no one was listening. "Why would I? You know I can't!"

"You could to watch me," Thaddeus pointed out. "I'll be in it."

Narcissa paused. She hadn't thought about that. Thaddeus knew who she would _really_ be watching if she went. She hadn't even thought to pretend she was there for Thaddeus. Many people were still under the impression the two were dating, although they never explicitly said they were. Narcissa tapped her chin.

"Well," she said at last, a slow smile forming, "I suppose since you and I are getting pretty _serious_ … It would only make sense that I was there." She giggled at Thaddeus' suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

"Exactly," he said, jumping up. "The first match starts in fifteen minutes, but come whenever. It'll be going on all day. Oh! And wear something green." He paused, before going on sarcastically, with put-on airs, "Sorry, I meant – _Serpenty-Venom._ Or whatever ludicrous name you have for the color green."

"Shut it!" Narcissa exclaimed, laughing as Thaddeus hurried away.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Narcissa happily made her way down the long trek of open grass to the Quidditch pitch, where she could see crowds of other students gathered. Before she'd even reached the field, she heard the cheers of her classmates and the voice of someone over the speaker, calling out the shots and whatnot. When Narcissa arrived, she hesitated before ascending the steps to one of the lower balconies. There were really more people on the field than there were in the stands, but Narcissa moved quietly until she came to sit behind a group of around a dozen students, all of whom were watching what appeared to be Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, if the colors they were wearing were any indication.

Narcissa's eyes scanned the field, and after a few minutes, she saw the Hufflepuff and Slytherin teams waiting off to the side. At last, the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor teams finished – with a Gryffindor win – and they jogged off the pitch, exhausted and laughing. Narcissa peered curiously at the Slytherin team. It was composed of Thaddeus, the only pureblood, and several other half-bloods in Slytherin. None of them were the more illustrious or well-to-do Slytherins. Some of them just looked plain mean, though, and Narcissa knew they were probably just there to try and knock someone out.

Down on the field, Iain looked up and caught Narcissa's eyes. She quickly gave him a smile before clapping for the Slytherin team as they went out. Iain's lips quirked at a smirk, and he winked at her once before coming out with the Hufflepuff team.

Afternoon faded into the cooler colors of evening as the match began, and the crowd grew and shrank, people coming and going as they watched the Muggle sport. As Narcissa had expected, the Slytherin team was mostly just there to try and beat up on the Hufflepuff players, but those who were more familiar with the game seemed to know how to escape them.

Narcissa had never been able to watch Iain really play anything, but now she got her very first chance to watch him compete on level with other students, using a tremendous amount of skill and speed. She had to shove her hands between her knees and squeeze them just to avoid clapping and cheering for him specifically. When he made a goal, she almost fell out of her seat with the effort not to jump up and scream.

There were a couple of rough moments; one of the Slytherins collided with a Hufflepuff and sent him rolling across the pitch. The Hufflepuff boy had been unable to continue, and they'd brought in another. Thaddeus was decent at the game, but apparently, despite being lean, he wasn't much of a runner, and practically all the Hufflepuffs could outpace him.

By the end of the match, it was quite clear that Hufflepuff had outplayed Slytherin. The final score was 4 to 1, with one of the goals belonging to Iain.

By the time the exhausted players finally left the pitch, night had formed and the remaining students happily turned to retreat back up to the castle. Narcissa quickly hurried down from the steps and let people see her stop and hug Thaddeus, who breathlessly returned the hug and then left. After that, Narcissa ducked under the stands and waited for the Hufflepuffs to emerge.

Iain trailed behind most of them, laughing at something one of his housemates said as they began to walk off. Narcissa peeked out from under the stands. "Psst!" she hissed. "Iain!"

Iain glanced up and then looked back, spotting Narcissa just before she ducked away. With one last glance at the other students, many of whom were well on their way back to Hogwarts now, Iain hurried over and ducked under the stands with her. Narcissa jumped out of the shadows and wrapped her arms around him.

"What a good job you did!" she praised in an excited whisper as Iain wrapped his arms around her. "You kicked the ball into the thing!"

Iain laughed, leaning down to kiss her. "Aye, I did," he murmured, pulling them further into the comforting shadows under the stands. The magical pitch lights were still on, but the stands protected them. The night air felt cool and wonderfully exhilarating.

"I'm so glad you were here," he told her, bringing up a knuckle to trace it down her cheek. "Even if you had to pretend you were cheering on Thaddeus."

"I'll have to tell him that he was quite pitiful in comparison to you," teased Narcissa, and Iain smirked, trying not to look smug and failing. Narcissa pulled away to hold up her bag. "I brought some snacks! Are you hungry?"

"Bloody starving," said Iain, as always. The two left the stands and found a dark spot on the other side of the scaffolding, just under the brilliant white light of the moon. Narcissa spread out her cloak, and she and Iain reclined there, enjoying the comfort of being far from the castle and utterly alone.

"How did you like football?" asked Iain.

"Better than I like Quidditch," Narcissa admitted. "At least I could see what was going on! Quidditch is too fast." She ate a grape. "If I have a son, I hope he doesn't like Quidditch."

"Well, I hope he does!" exclaimed Iain. "Quidditch AND football."

The young couple paused, cheeks flushed, as they realized they might well be talking about the very same child. Biting her lip, Narcissa shrugged and said quite casually, "Well, if he's anything like you, he will." She pretended she found this annoying.

Iain smiled at this. After they were done eating, he pulled Narcissa into his arms and held her, enjoying the quiet sounds of night, the distant chattering of insects, the hushed movement of the wind. After a few minutes of silence, Iain brushed his lips against Narcissa's cheek.

"I love you, Narcissa."

Eyes wide, Narcissa turned slowly in his arms, her hands falling over his. A slow smile formed on her face, her heart higher than it had ever been. Iain seemed to be anxiously waiting for her response, so Narcissa slid closer and tilted her head up to his. "I love you, too."

Their foreheads pressed together, and Narcissa turned more in his arms so Iain could wrap around her and press her back against the cloak that shielded them from the ground. Moving his body over hers, Iain caught her lips with a deep kiss and raked his hands, grip firm, down Narcissa's pale arms.

Hungry for his touch, Narcissa pulled him flush against her, wanting to feel him all around her again.

_Tap... Tap... Tap…_

Iain pulled away from Narcissa, his brows furrowed. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

Narcissa turned her head to the side, her lips frowning as she listened. At first, she heard nothing. Then, there it was.

_Tap… Tap... Tap…_

And then someone was talking.

"Oh, Mudbloods…" rang out a taunting female voice.

Their eyes widened in unison.

"I hear you're out here playing a game," continued the voice, high and lyrical before going on lowly, "…I want to play one, too."

A shadow fell over the scaffolding just behind Narcissa and Iain, and they both looked up, horrified, to see a figure pass by, creating pockets of darkness against the light. Iain quickly looked to Narcissa and held up his finger to his lips, and they both froze, praying for the haunting figure to pass them by. The tap, tap, tap, was the tip of a wand, dragging along the wood.

_Tap… Tap... Tap…_

The shadow stilled. Narcissa covered her mouth with a hand to muffle her breathing, but her heart was pounding in her ears, and that she could not silence.

"Pity," came the voice. "It would seem you've all gone already…"

Narcissa's own hand trembled over her mouth.

Suddenly, there was a quick jinx, and the scaffolding exploded over Narcissa and Iain, forcing them to jump to their feet and throw up their arms to shield themselves. Iain instantly jumped in front of Narcissa, holding out his arms.

Cast against the blinding light of the Quidditch pitch, a dark shadow moved forward. When its features cleared, it revealed Corinne Lestrange, eyes glinting with malice. "Oh, look. Someone stayed for me," she purred, a twisted grin on her features. "How delightful. And who do we have here…"

Iain and Corinne locked eyes, and the Slytherin's features tightened, giving her a manic look.

"Look at that," she murmured with a growing sneer. "My favorite Mudblood. And who is that with you?"

Corinne tried to lean around to see, but Iain snatched out his wand. "Get out of here, Corinne – "

With one quick flick of Corinne's wand, Iain was jerked from his feet and went flying into some scaffolding, which he crashed into. "Iain!" exclaimed Narcissa, her eyes snapping to Corinne as the elder witch gasped with genuine shock.

"Narcissa Black?" she exclaimed, before her features lit up in a wicked laugh. "Oh, this is just the best day I've had _all year_! A Black! Out here with a bloody disgusting Mudblood!"

Narcissa yanked out her wand, but it trembled in her hand. She kept glancing at Iain, who struggled to stand. Corinne advanced on her, lips curled with malicious delight.

"Oh, I can't WAIT to tell everyone about this!" said Corinne, moving closer. "Narcissa Black, cavorting with a Mudblood. Your dear sister is going to be _furious_!" Corinne tilted her head, eyes glittering. "You know the one I mean," she taunted.

"Shut up!" Narcissa growled, tears stinging her eyes. "Go, Corinne! I'm warning you!"

"You are, are you?" asked Corinne. "Well, well. Forgive me for not being sc – "

A spell blasted Corinne in the side, and she went flying off her feet, landing roughly in the grass a few feet away. Iain jumped forward, snatching Narcissa's arm. "Come on!" he shouted, tugging her away as Corinne fought to her feet, furious.

"We've got to get back to the castle!" Narcissa told him, and the two turned to run across the open grass back to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Corinne jumped in their path, and with one blistering curse, she sent them running back to the Quidditch pitch. Narcissa screamed with the next hex flew right past her, narrowly missing her shoulder.

"COME BACK HERE!" howled Corinne, firing on them with such intense spells and curses that Narcissa could feel their heat, their malevolence, preceding them in every turn. Shrieking, Narcissa ran alongside Iain as fast as she could, feet pounding on the grass, wand clutched in one hand. A nasty curse came right at them, and Iain shoved Narcissa away, diving to the opposite side before the spell could hit them. Narcissa hit the ground and rolled behind the Gryffindor changing rooms, where she ducked her head and tried not to cry.

Iain was a few feet of open space away from her, ducked behind the broom shed. Turning swiftly around the corner, he fired on Corinne, who deflected the curse and kept coming. "Narcissa!" called out Iain. "You have to fire back!"

" _I'M NOT A BLOODY DUELIST_!"

Iain jumped behind the broom shed again. "You have to try!" he told her desperately. Rounding again, he fired on Corinne and the elder witch had to stop to deflect it, as it had been quite strong. With a snarl, she rushed forward and sent a hex at them that blew the top off the broom shed. Iain's eyes shot up to the top of the Gryffindor changing rooms, and he fired on that instead, causing a pile of debris to fall in front of Corinne, which made her shriek and jump back.

Jumping up, Iain ran over to Narcissa, grabbed her hand once more and moved to run with her again. However, Corinne blasted her way through the rubble and hurried after them. With one quick hex, Corinne cut off Iain and Narcissa's path and parted them with a blast. Narcissa landed hard just at the foot of the tallest stands, and Corinne fired on her again before she could even get to her feet. Narcissa barely rolled out of the way, and in a panic, she rushed to the stairs and began climbing up them, knowing there was no escape at the top. She could not see Iain, but if Corinne was chasing her, she could not be hurting him, and that was good enough for Narcissa at the moment.

Scrambling up the steps, winding section after winding section, Narcissa heaved and panted as she fought with hands and feet to get to the top. All the while, Corinne followed her at a leisurely pace, laughing at Narcissa's desperation.

"I'm coming after you, Narcissa Black!" Corinne sang up the steps, dragging her wand along the walls again. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ "Run all you like!"

Heaving, Narcissa finally reached the top of the steps and ran to the edge, where a railing kept her falling straight to the ground, more than a hundred feet below. Eyes filled with tears, Narcissa looked around desperately for anything, anyone to help her. She did not know where Iain was, or how hard he had fallen during the blast. All she knew was that she had never been more afraid in her life.

The tapping noises drew nearer.

Looking back at the staircase, and then across the empty air to the next tower of seats, Narcissa took in a deep breath and pointed her wand. " _Semita_ ," she whispered. Then, with trembling limbs, she climbed onto the railing and took a cautious step out onto the invisible path.

Her foot held, and Narcissa began to cross, her knees sinking into the liquid of her legs and her chest feeling concave. She fought not to look down, or to pay attention to the howling wind, as it seemed determined to rip her from her precarious perch.

Crossing through the air like a tightrope walker, Narcissa edged forward, inch by inch, trying to reach the stands just a few precious feet away.

Then, like a hellish demon, Corinne was there at the top of the stands.

"Black!" she snarled, before laughing cruelly at Narcissa's terrified glance back. "I won't even need to kill you at this rate! You'll do it well enough on your own!" Narcissa began edging along even faster as Corinne's grin grew. "But then," went on the other witch, "where's the fun in that?"

With Narcissa locked in her sights, Corinne drew back her wand. Narcissa let out a little cry.

But again, Corinne was blasted from the side. This time, it was not a spell, but Iain's full body crashing into her. Narcissa let out a surprised shriek, and she toppled on the invisible path, her arms waving. With a scream, Narcissa slipped from the path and fell, only to manage a desperate grip on the path before she could plunge to her death. Her wand fell from her grasp and tumbled through the air, landing far below on the grass, but she managed to hold on, legs kicking freely as tears threatened to blind her.

Narcissa let out a scream, though it was muted by the noises coming from the tower, where Iain was wrestling Corinne to get her wand away from her. Corinne blasted him off, but Iain jumped back up and tackled her from behind, hauling her off her feet and throwing her bodily down the winding stairs.

Corinne shrieked and tumbled down the steps, falling for several feet down the long twisting staircase.

"IAIN!" called out Narcissa desperately, still dangling from her invisible path, directly in the middle of the two towering Quidditch pitch stands. "I DROPPED MY WAND! I CAN'T GET BACK UP!" She struggled to keep her grip on the invisible path, but she kept slipping.

"It's alright!" shouted Iain, moving to the railing. "I'm going to help you!" He hurried forward, then peered down at the long distance to the ground. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Iain exclaimed, features pinched. He stopped for half a second, closed his eyes, and then heaved in a deep breath. With that, he hopped up on the railing and put a careful foot out on Narcissa's unseen path. Then he pitched forward, moving on his hands and knees across the slim invisible bridge to where Narcissa was dangling.

Reaching forward, hands slick with sweat, Iain pulled Narcissa up and back onto the path. "Go, hurry!" he urged, and Narcissa crawled ahead of him. They'd just reached the opposite side and ended the spell with Corinne appeared in the other tower, hair askew and face bruised. She fired a wild spell at them, but they ducked it and turned to race down the stairs.

Before they came to the bottom, Iain blasted through the side of the tower and jumped out, several feet to the ground, so that they would not come out at the bottom of the steps, but at the back of the stands. He held out his arms, and Narcissa jumped out with him, letting him catch her. It was a rough catch, but they both got back to their feet and began to run through the night to Hogwarts.

Just then, a golden coil lashed out and wrapped around Narcissa's ankle. With a cry, Narcissa fell to the ground, and before Iain could grab her, Corinne had yanked Narcissa back and flung her across the Quidditch pitch. This time, Corinne did not waste her time with Narcissa, but instead jerked her wand back in Iain's direction.

" _Expelliarmus_!" she snapped, and Iain's wand went flying.

Frayed, furious, wild with anger, Corinne advanced on Iain, looking positively feral. "You – disgusting – filthy – Mudblood," she hissed, drawing closer.

_No, no, no, no,_ thought Narcissa, struggling to push herself up. She didn't have her wand. She wasn't even sure where it was. Iain took a step back, hands up as if to defend himself, but he had nothing.

"Your kind doesn't deserve to be here!" howled Corinne. "And now there will be one – " she blasted Iain, and he fell back hard against the ground, " – less – " she hit him again, and Iain writhed against the ground, crying out, " – Mudblood – "

"AH!" Iain jerked against the grass, limbs tightening.

" – TO FOUL THIS BLOODY SCHOOL!" shouted Corinne. She yanked back her wand, lightning crackling in the air around the tip of her wand. " _AVADA_ – "

" _NO_!" screamed Narcissa, throwing out her empty hands.

Magical energy burst forth from Narcissa's outstretched arms, and it slammed into Corinne with the force of a vortex, ripping her from the ground and jettisoning her into the scaffolding of the stadium stands with such force that Corinne plowed through a dozen layers before stopping.

At last, it was the base of the Quidditch rings that halted Corinne's flying body with an unceremonious _thwack_.

Iain stared, still on his back on the ground. An ominous creak sounded, and he looked up, eyes wide. "NARCISSA! MOVE!" he shouted, jumping up from the ground and snatching up his wand just before he grabbed Narcissa's hand and pulled her away. All around them, the Quidditch stands were collapsing, having lost the better part of their scaffolding. With great wooden groans, the stands teetered and fell, smashing into the ground all around them as Narcissa screamed, throwing her free hand over her head. Wood burst at their sides, and House flags sailed through the air with gusty billowing calls, nearly trapping them underneath.

They could not outrun the last collapsing stand, and Iain yanked Narcissa into his grip, pointing his wand up and shouting for a shield. The massive stand fell directly on top of them, and Iain's knees buckled under the weight, but his spell held.

Darkness fell over them.

Panting, Iain's eyes shifted up slowly, and Narcissa turned her watery gaze to the rubble all around them. With one last push, Iain shoved the broken debris away, and the stadium lights were visible once more. Holding tightly onto one another, they climbed out of the broken wood to the middle of the Quidditch pitch, which was now littered with refuse.

Several feet away, Corinne's motionless body lay just underneath the middle Quidditch ring. Swallowing tightly, Narcissa gripped Iain's hand and stepped forward. "Is she – is she dead?"

Iain walked unsteadily to Corinne and reached out a hand to touch her, but voices called in the distance. Jerking back his hand, Iain looked to the dark castle in the distance. Lights were floating in their direction.

"God damn it," he said, trembling. "Someone saw the stands collapse. They're coming out here to see what happened."

In unison, Iain and Narcissa looked to Corinne's broken body.

"Surely they'll understand," whispered Narcissa tearfully. "She attacked us!"

Iain swiped a hand over his face, and then he looked down at the wand in his hand. Heaving in a deep breath, he turned to Narcissa and put a hand on her cheek. "Get out of here. Go back to the castle."

Narcissa jerked, startled. "What? No!"

"Yes, Narcissa!"

"Why?" she exclaimed, face streaked with tears. When she saw Iain fighting back tears of her own, her heart shattered.

"Because," he told her, pressing back a sob, "if I have to go to Azkaban, I don't want you to go, too!"

"Iain," sobbed Narcissa, tugging on his arms. "Please!"

"You're not free of your father yet, Narcissa! And I'm not taking a chance on you going down with me!" Looking back at the approaching lights, Iain wiped at his tears with a sleeve and then kissed her lips. "I love you," he told her, before he stepped away and pointed his wand at her. " _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Narcissa, having no wand, could only watch as the spell took over her body and locked her limbs in place. With an anguished noise, Iain picked her up and hid her behind the broom shed. "It'll wear off in a few minutes," he promised her, tears sliding down his face. They could hear voices now – Dumbledore and McGonagall and others.

Narcissa wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, but she couldn't.

Pulling away from her, Iain disappeared out of sight. Narcissa heard the professors approach, aghast at the massive amount of damage. Iain did his best to explain, but Narcissa heard another voice cut him off; it was Lucius Malfoy.

"CORINNE!" he cried out. "We have to get her to St. Mungo's!" Lucius sounded as if he were on the verge of breaking down. There was a lot of shuffling, some movements, and then the quiet, stiff voice of McGonagall.

"Come along, Mister Stewart. We will… have to report this to the authorities."

"Professor, she – she attacked me, you know how she is – "

But Lucius Malfoy's voice was there, too, low with grief and laced with malice.

"I will make certain you pay for this with your life, Mudblood," he told Iain, without a care to who heard him. A few seconds later, the voices disappeared.

And finally, finally, the spell wore off, and Narcissa collapsed in her spot, now completely and utterly alone.

* * *

 

For five agonizing days, Narcissa waited.

Rumors spread across the school like a sickness. Narcissa withered under an ailment all her own, an illness of the mind and body that eroded away any desire to eat or sleep. Thaddeus came to her more than once and tried to cheer her, telling her there was no way the trial would go against Iain. He told her that the Wizengamot would find him innocent, and that many students had left Hogwarts to testify on Iain's behalf.

Narcissa did not know this, or she would have volunteered to go as well, reputation be damned. But when she finally realized what was going on, she could not think of what to do.

Finally, after the fifth day, she did the only thing she could think of.

She went to Albus Dumbledore.

"Come in, Miss Black," said the aged wizard before Narcissa had spoken a word.

Entering with a slow shuffle, Narcissa took a seat across from the headmaster and looked up at him with what must have been skeletal features. She had not eaten a thing in days, and she could hardly hold her head up.

"I suppose," said Dumbledore, setting his wizened gaze on her, "that you would like to know what has happened to Mister Stewart."

Narcissa blinked slowly. She did not know how Dumbledore knew this, but she did not care. The old man always seemed to know more than he ought. Then Narcissa saw her wand sitting on Dumbledore's desk, and he handed it to her. Expressionlessly, Narcissa accepted it. 

At last, Narcissa forced herself to speak. "Where is he?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"For the last five days," said Dumbledore, "he has been in Azkaban as his trial progressed."

Narcissa clenched her eyes closed, but that did not stop the tears. "Was he – Is he going to stay there?"

Dumbledore observed Narcissa for a long moment. "No, Miss Black," he said at last. "He was found innocent, thanks to the generous testimony of many friends and professors, all of whom testified to his kind nature, and to Corinne's prejudice. He was released to his family just this morning."

An exhale left Narcissa, and tears poured down her cheeks.

"Unfortunately," went on Dumbledore, frowning, "the Malfoys and Lestranges were not happy with this verdict, and so they campaigned – successfully – to have Mister Stewart expelled from Hogwarts."

Narcissa's head jerked up. "Expelled?" she cried out. "So he's never to return here?"

"I am afraid not," said Dumbledore gently.

"But," Narcissa's features crumbled, "that means he'll have to stay with the Muggles! And what if – what if the Malfoys or the Lestranges go after him there?"

"I have set forth a protective spell to keep him hidden," Dumbledore told her. "He will be safe, I assure you."

Inhaling deeply, Narcissa put both hands to her face, a mixture of relief and agony filling her to the very top, threatening to bubble up through her throat and erupt out of her.

"It is always best to keep your eyes up, Miss Black," said Dumbledore kindly. "Otherwise, you may well miss what is right in front of you."

Narcissa looked up slowly and nodded. Then she rose from her chair and left the office, though she did not ask permission and Dumbledore had not released her. She did not care.

Instead, she went down to the classroom she and Iain had spent so much time in. The day was dreary, fitting her mood, and it began to rain as soon as she slipped inside and locked the door behind her. With raindrops beating against the window that had shone so brilliantly just a few days before, Narcissa moved to their nest of blankets, books, parchments and other nonsense, and she laid down on her side on the floor.

Iain would never be in here with her again.

Her hand brushed the record player they'd sneaked inside, and a song began to play.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night…_


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Here we go…

Thanks for all your support, guys. It means a lot to me.

* * *

For the next week, Narcissa simply existed.

She did not attend class, and she did not go to the Great Hall to eat. She barely kept herself awake, conscious only in the most literal sense. After a few days, Slughorn came into the dormitory and tried unsuccessfully to persuade Narcissa to leave, to go back to class. Narcissa simply laid in her bed on her side, not responding at all. Her dormmates surely noticed her morose behavior, but judging from what she overheard of their gossip, they assumed her mood reflected the distraught demeanor of Lucius Malfoy, who had returned to Hogwarts after Iain's trial without a single word to anyone. He continued his Head Boy duties and attended class, but his expression never changed from its hard edges and cold stare.

The other Slytherins seemed to assume this was what upset Narcissa, and she did not bother to correct them. She did not care.

Thaddeus even sneaked his way into the girls' dormitory (apparently he'd performed some rather acrobatic feats to get past the sliding stairs), and he sat with her for hours, comforting her with a hand to her arm and bringing her food. "He's okay," Thaddeus whispered to Narcissa. "He's out of Azkaban. He was found innocent, Narcissa. Be happy! You'll see him soon."

His words held little comfort, but it was nice to have someone there who knew the true source of Narcissa's misery.

Iain was never coming back to Hogwarts.

Finally, a week after Narcissa discovered Iain's fate, she received a letter. The owl came directly to the dormitory window, and when one of the other girls accepted it, she turned to Narcissa. "Narcissa, you got a letter." Sybil tilted her head. "It's from someone named Algernon."

In her bed, Narcissa's dark features lifted, and she sat up slowly in her bed, blinking against the dizziness that hit her from the simple movement. For a moment, she could not comprehend her own thoughts. And then – "Give it here!" She jumped up, taking the letter from Sybil, who rolled her eyes and left. Narcissa looked at the handwriting on the envelope, and her heart soared.

Dashing away, Narcissa tucked herself into her bed, drew her curtains, illuminated her wand and read.

_Narcissa,_

_Bloody hell, there's too many things I wanted to write, so I had to make a list._

_1\. Are you okay?_

_2\. I'm fine._

_3\. I was found innocent._

_4\. I did get expelled though._

_5\. I'm at home with my family in Stirling._

_6\. Are you sure you're okay?_

_7\. Please eat._

_8\. I'm okay, really._

_9\. I lied and told my parents I graduated Hogwarts early._

_10\. I'm still a bad liar. They didn't believe me._

_11\. I'm sorry this took so long! It's been crazy!_

_12\. Please don't worry._

_I13. It's okay, I promise._

_**14\. Please eat.** _

_15\. Dumbledore spoke up for me._

_16\. Lucius Malfoy really wants to kill me._

_17\. My older brothers both went to prison while I was gone so that's nice._

_18\. Dumbledore says I'm safe._

_19\. Are you okay?_

_20\. I love you._

_Please write back soon. I miss you._

_Love,_

" _Algernon"_

Narcissa read and re-read the letter a dozen times. After a while, she clutched it to her chest, tears of relief pouring down her face. When she'd finally gathered herself, she took the letter, found some parchment, ink, and a quill, and then she rushed down to the library where she wouldn't be bothered. There, she wrote a response back. Every few sentences, she had to pause and suck in a deep breath again, doing her best not to cry.

_Algernon,_

_I'm so glad you're alright. I can't even tell you how I've been here since you left. Miserable is too kind a word. You would be rightly ashamed of me for acting so dramatically, but I couldn't help it. This place is intolerable without you. I'm so happy you're safe at home, and that you were found innocent. I should have never left you alone in the first place._

_I don't want to be here without you. What will we do? When will I see you again?_

_Attending Hogwarts next year isn't worth it if you aren't here. I want to be where you are. I love you and I miss you so much._

_Love always,_

_Narcissa_

After finishing her letter, Narcissa quickly folded it up, addressed it back to the location on the envelope from before, and sent it off. She quickly received a reply, and from that point on – for the remaining five weeks of the term – she and Iain wrote to each other every day.

_Narcissa,_

_Don't you dare drop out of school! You are too smart for that. Just because I can't finish doesn't mean you shouldn't…_

_Algernon,_

_Please, I don't want to be here without you! What are we going to do? …_

_Narcissa,_

_It's alright, love. I've started working for my Pa's shop again, and I'm going to save every single bit of money I make. While you're finishing school, I'll work all year, every day if I have to. And then, when you're done with Hogwarts, I'll have enough saved to get us a place of our own. That'll be great, won't it? Just think, you'll be able to decorate it exactly how you like…_

_Algernon,_

_I'll save my gold, too! Anything Bellatrix gives me for shopping during the school year, I'll put it all away! I still have gold from this term, too. I'll save it, and when I'm done here, you and I can find the perfect home together. I promise I won't make it too girly…_

_Narcissa,_

_See? It's going to work out perfectly! You're worrying for nothing…_

On the last day of classes, Narcissa smiled at her most recent letter from Iain. Folding it very carefully, she tucked the letter with all the others into the leather-bound journal he had given her for Christmas. She'd written in it every day since he'd gone, and it was a welcome release, the perfect place for her inner-most thoughts. Taking in a deep breath, she wrapped up the journal in its cord and tucked it into her locked trunk. Then she rose to go downstairs for dinner.

However, once Narcissa arrived at the Great Hall, Slughorn was waiting for her. "Miss Black," he said, looking a little apprehensive, "there is someone here to see you." Brows furrowed, Narcissa stepped around the corner.

Cygnus Black III stood at the entrance to Hogwarts.

Narcissa's eyes widened, her body jerking almost painfully as she came face-to-face with her father. Slughorn waited next to her, but when Mr. Black approached, he looked to Slughorn and said snidely, "I would like to speak to my daughter alone."

Slughorn frowned, but he nodded, looking to Narcissa for a moment before he stepped away and vanished through a door. Narcissa's heart seized in her chest, and she mentally begged Slughorn not to leave her. But he was already gone.

"Hello Father," greeted Narcissa at last in a low whisper.

Mr. Black stepped forward. He was thinner than Narcissa remembered, and there was an unsteadiness to his walk. His eyes were glassy and his skin waxy, and he looked overall unwell. Bellatrix had once told Narcissa that their father severely abused potions and medicines in addition to his many other vices. Andromeda had shushed her, but Narcissa knew Bellatrix was telling the truth.

Their father was an embezzler, a thief, an abuser, and an alcoholic. And here he was, standing right in front of Narcissa, bearing down on her with a palpable animosity that engulfed Narcissa in a tidal wave of hatred. Had there ever been a father so bereft of love for his daughters?

"Where is she?" grunted Mr. Black at last.

Narcissa tucked her head. "Who, Father?"

"You know who I'm talking about!" he snapped, making Narcissa jerk as he stepped right up to her. "Your bloody whore sister! Bellatrix!"

Narcissa shook her head furiously. "I don't know, Father – "

"Yes you do! Stop lying to me!"

"I don't, Father, please!" Tears filled Narcissa's eyes.

"That bloody bitch," sneered Mr. Black, "has stolen the family jewels from our home! She has embarrassed our family! She is a disgrace!"

_You are the disgrace_ , thought Narcissa, but she could not find the courage to say the words aloud.

"Now tell me where she is!"

"I swear to you, Father," Narcissa cried, "I don't – "

_WHACK_. Shock and pain intermingled as Narcissa brought a hand to her now bruised face. She felt her lip bleeding, and dimly registered that her father had slapped her. "TELL ME!" roared Mr. Black.

It was at that moment that Slughorn entered swiftly, and Narcissa realized he must have been keeping close by. "Mister Black!" snapped the older wizard angrily. "That is quite enough!"

"Do not presume to tell me what to do!" snarled Mr. Black, but other teachers entered now, too, and Professor Sprout reached out to gently tug Narcissa behind the protective wall of professors. "That is my bloody daughter!" growled Mr. Black. "I'll discipline her however I see fit!"

"I am afraid, Mister Black," said Dumbledore as he glided to the front of the group, normally soft eyes sharp, "that you are mistaken. For we are still on the grounds of Hogwarts, and as a result, you are not permitted to abuse your daughter. Not here."

Mr. Black balked at the sight of Dumbledore, though his rage remained. However, he did not advance on Narcissa again, who was still holding her face and staring at the floor, burning with shame and embarrassment.

"Fine, Dumbledore," snapped Mr. Black. "Hide her here at your bloody Mudblood-infested hole! She has to return home some time."

"You should leave, Mister Black," was Dumbledore's deceptively calm reply. "Promptly, unless you would like us to aid you in a most … unseemly manner."

Mr. Black took a step back at this, observing the cluster of teachers once more before he turned on his heel and left.

"Come on, dear," said Sprout. "Let's go and see about that lip, hm?"

Nodding dully, Narcissa let Professor Sprout lead her away.

* * *

Narcissa did not have the opportunity to write to Iain about what had happened with her father. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to tell him, knowing how upset he would be. On the morning the students were set to leave Hogwarts for the summer, Dumbledore called Narcissa to his office.

Entering with her eyes low, Narcissa took a seat in a chair across from the elderly wizard.

"Miss Black," said Dumbledore. "Do you feel safe returning to your home?" He watched her carefully. "If not, I'm sure some of our staff here can offer you a place in their home for the summer. After all, you are of age. No matter what your father may believe, he does not have the legal right to control or manipulate you any longer."

Narcissa thought about this for a while before answering. The idea of going home with a teacher like some sort of unwanted, pathetic orphan was repulsive, but she did consider it, mostly because she was afraid her father would kill her if she went home. She could try to go to Iain, but he lived in a crowded house with his Muggle family, and he wasn't expecting her. She would be in London in a few hours. How would she get to him?

Then she thought of her sisters. She hadn't seen them since Christmas. She had to know where they were, what was happening. She had to warn Bellatrix about their father.

"Thank you, Professor," she said at last, blinking up at Dumbledore. "But my sisters will keep me safe."

Dumbledore paused before responding. "That is good to know," he said softly. "If you change your mind, return to Hogsmeade. Someone will meet with you there."

Narcissa nodded, feeling a twinge of true gratitude. "Have a good summer," Narcissa told Dumbledore, feeling odd even as she said it, as if the entire world was surreal to her in that moment. After that, she left and returned to her dorm, where she finished packing her things, changed out of her school robes, and then went downstairs with all the other students to load the carriages and head to the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

The hours flew by, as did the rolling landscape. Narcissa watched dully from her spot on the train, not even bothering to feign attention to any of her companions. A few attempted to engage her, but Narcissa ignored them, and they gave up.

Late in the afternoon, the Hogwarts Express rolled into the station, and the students began pouring out, excited for their summer break. Narcissa picked up her shoulder bag, slipped it up her arm, and then stood stiffly. She wasn't sure what was going to happen. She hadn't heard anything from anyone, even though she'd written to both of her sisters multiple times since Christmas.

On the platform, there was no one waiting for her.

Narcissa deflated, her features pinched with the effort not to cry. Her eyes drifted around the platform, where she saw other students rushing to their parents, clinging to their siblings, waving good-bye to their friends. Narcissa wondered if perhaps her sisters were just running late.

So she took a seat and waited.

The platform emptied. The families left. And still Narcissa waited, alone.

At last, the evening had come, and the platform grew very dark. One of the train drivers peered over at Narcissa. "Are you alright, Miss?" he asked.

Flushing, Narcissa stood and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "I'm fine," she said coldly, turning away. She marched through the barrier into the Muggle platform for the London train station, and she immediately balked, having nearly been run into by a Muggle family. They eyed her robes oddly and then continued.

Swallowing tightly, Narcissa swiped at the corners of her eyes and then moved forward, dragging her large luggage trunk on a cart behind her. Finally, she reached the edge of the station and pulled her cart over to a secure location. If she concentrated, she could Apparate herself and all her things. She was seventeen. She had gotten her license. Unfortunately, she was not very good at it, and she had never had to Apparate with so many things before. That made it more difficult. Her heart pounded; she was afraid.

Too afraid. If she splinched herself, she wasn't sure what she would do.

Tears spilled over Narcissa's cheeks. The train station was crowded, but Narcissa was utterly alone. Fighting the urge to sit down and sob, Narcissa rubbed at her face with her shoulder and leaned against her trunk. Nearby, a Muggle man stopped and tilted his head at her.

"Do you need some help?" he asked kindly. "Are you lost?"

Narcissa balked; she had never spoken to a Muggle before. "I – " she stopped. "No," she said at last, ducking her eyes. "I just… I'm not sure – how to get home."

"Well, where do you live?" asked the Muggle man. Narcissa hesitated, and the man seemed to understand. "I don't blame you of being wary of strangers," he said. "But you know, if it's in the city, you can just take the bus there." He pointed to a row of buses. "Those go all over."

Narcissa blinked, and then suddenly, it hit her. The Knight Bus!

"Oh!" she said, sitting up. "I will take the bus, yes. Thank you."

The Muggle man smiled and gave her a little wave before he disappeared. As he walked away, Narcissa noticed him frowning at his glasses, which appeared to be broken. Touching her wand in her pocket, Narcissa edged it in his direction. " _Oculus reparo_ ," she whispered.

The glasses fused back together in the man's hand while he wasn't looking. When he next peered at them, he stopped walking and looked at his glasses with surprise. Then he turned them over in his hand, perplexed but smiling. Narcissa's lips quirked a little, and she continued on.

When she found a secure spot, she raised her wand in the air, praying that she was doing it right. Within seconds, a massive purple bus appeared, a wizard in uniform hanging out of the door quite casually.

"Thank you for using the Knight Bus," he said tonelessly. "Name?"

Narcissa exhaled. "Narcissa Black." She signed a piece of parchment and gave him her address. After that, he loaded up her trunk for her, and Narcissa entered the bus cautiously. After a few moments, she took a timid seat near the front.

The Knight Bus took next to no time to reach Grimmauld Place, and when it stopped, the attendant flicked his wand and Narcissa's trunk appeared on the sidewalk. "Have a nice night," he said before picking up a magazine and flipping through it. Narcissa hurried off the bus, grabbed her things, and then turned up to look at her dark home.

Like her Aunt Walberga's house, Narcissa's home was not immediately visible. Rather than hiding between Muggle homes, though, Narcissa's ancient house appeared to be an abandoned church, ominous in its decay. However, as Narcissa approached, the magic sensed her, and the image of abandonment shimmered before fading away like a retreating fog.

Narcissa looked up at the large and foreboding home, realizing belatedly that it looked more like a cathedral in its natural form than it did under the guise of its Muggle-repelling magic. The home was made of thick grey stone with a large set of arched double-doors. The windows were of painted glass, and there was even a pointed edge at the very top that resembled a steeple. The manor had been luxurious in its inception; it was a mere skeleton now.

Her heart pounding, Narcissa ascended the steps to her home; it had been an entire year since she had last seen it.

The door opened with a long creak. The inside foyer was dark.

"Hello?" Narcissa called out, leaving her trunk near the door. She held tight to her shoulder bag, fear causing her to tremble. "Is anyone home?"

She lit her wand and gasped.

The home had been in poor condition when she'd left, but now it seemed as though it had been ransacked. What little furniture remained had been broken or tossed around; the walls were peeling and half-gone in some rooms. Their beautiful family tapestry alone had been preserved in the foyer, but its frayed edges and tattered threads mirrored the Black family itself – proud, old, and dying.

Dust covered the few remaining shelves or chairs, and the curtains had been ripped from the rods and left on the floor. Turning, Narcissa ascended the pitch-black staircase to the corridor where her old bedroom had been. Pushing open the door shakily, she saw that it had been left mostly undisturbed. The only thing that had been destroyed there was the rocking chair, the one in which her mother had died.

Narcissa's hand jumped to her mouth, and she dropped to her knees next to it, her fingers running over the broken pieces. The rest of the room watched, as if sentient, each corner holding memories and trinkets alike. Nearby, a doll Narcissa had played with waited to be picked up again. Their beds – all three of them – were neatly made, each of the blankets and pillows stiff with disuse.

A noise startled Narcissa out of her thoughts. Someone was downstairs.

Rising, Narcissa took her wand in hand and went back down the stairs. More noises alerted her, and she found herself walking towards their once-elegant dining room. Ahead, she saw the double-doors ahead outlined in light. There were voices within – more than one.

Edging forward, Narcissa reached out a hand and pushed the doors open.

"Narcissa!" called out a joyful voice.

Bellatrix appeared in front of her, causing Narcissa to jerk back. A barrage of lights, sounds, and voices assaulted her. "We've been waiting for you," purred her sister.

Shocked, Narcissa looked around the large room to see it filled with people, all of whom were wearing dark robes and many of which were in strange skeletal masks. In comparison to the rest of the home, the aged dining hall was in immaculate condition. The sconces were filled with light, and the long dining table was set, though there was no sign anyone had eaten.

Instead, a line of bound witches and wizards floated over the plates, turning slowly as if roasting over a fire. Narcissa stared; each one of the bound people was bruised, bloodied, and gagged. Tears dropped down their faces and hit the pristine plates below, soiling the fine cloth napkins. There must have been a dozen of them, all the way down the length of the table, some sobbing and others moaning. People milled around the room and talked in groups, as if nothing was amiss. Some looked over at the captives and laughed.

"It took you long enough," said Bellatrix, fingers tight on Narcissa's shoulder. She moved behind her sister and edged her forward when Narcissa did not move on her own.

"I was – I was at the train station," managed Narcissa at last, mumbling under the weight of her fear. "No one was there."

"You're seventeen," sneered Bellatrix. "I think you can get home by yourself now, don't you?" Narcissa started to respond – Merin, there were people everywhere, and they were all staring at her as Bellatrix walked her across the room – but Bellatrix hushed her. "It doesn't matter now. You're here."

At last, the pair of sisters came upon three figures standing at the head of the room. Two of them were wearing those terrible masks, but the third was not. However, he was turned away from them as they approached, so Narcissa could not see him.

"My lord," said Bellatrix importantly, her voice quite loud and pleased, "she is here."

The figure at the center turned, as did the two flanking him.

Never before in her life had Narcissa seen anything so terrifying. The wizard in front of her had the strange inhuman features of a serpent, eyes red and narrow. His skin was an unnatural color, and his hands appeared sharp, each fingertip ending in a dangerous point. The aura that surrounded him seemed to seep into Narcissa's pores against her will, and it made her feel unbearably violated.

Bellatrix looked upon this chilling man as one might a god, her voice trembling with anticipation.

"My lord, this is my sister, Narcissa." Bellatrix put both hands on Narcissa's shoulders and edged her forward, reaching up one hand to stroke back a lock of hair from Narcissa's terrified face. "She's the one I've been telling you about."

"Ah," said the strange wizard, moving forward. Narcissa would have moved back, but Bellatrix was right behind her, and she could only stay frozen in her spot. "What a joyous reunion… What do you think, my dear Bellatrix? Will she prove a loyal servant, as you have?"

"No one is as loyal as I am, my lord," said Bellatrix coyly, and one of the masked figures next to them bristled, as if he took issue with Bellatrix's claim. "But Narcissa will serve you well. She has the same pure Black blood as I do, and she will do well in her role."

At this, Narcissa finally jerked her head a little to look at Bellatrix. "My – my role?"

"Excellent," said the strange wizard, and everyone ignored Narcissa's question. "I assume, then, that you and Abraxas have reached an agreement?"

Narcissa's eyes widened, and her trembling gaze shifted to the two masked figures. It was then that she understood; they were Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy, the most powerful father and son in all magical society. Their faces were hidden, but their aristocratic stance seemed to pervade even their disguises.

"Yes, my lord," said Bellatrix, eyes glinting.

"Good," said the Dark Lord, looking to one of the masked figures. When the figure stepped forward, the Dark Lord lifted his fingertip to the edge of the mask, and it melted away to reveal Lucius Malfoy's stiff and apathetic features.

"Come, Lucius," said the Dark Lord. "Take a look at your new bride."

Narcissa's heart stopped.

At the Dark Lord's request, Lucius Malfoy turned to face her. Narcissa made eye-contact with him and immediately regretted it; never before had she seen such a cold stare, not even from her father. "I don't understand," admitted Narcissa at last in a tiny whisper.

A cold hand touched her shoulder, and Narcissa flinched. The Dark Lord drew her nearer, and she felt ice seep into her heart. Stumbling forward, Narcissa let herself be led by the strange wizard until she stood next to Lucius Malfoy, who waited with the Dark Lord's other hand resting on his own shoulder.

"It was a great disappointment, what happened to Corinne Lestrange…" said the Dark Lord, and Lucius's grey eyes sharpened. "She was, after all, such an eager follower… so full of enthusiasm for our purpose. Alas, we must press on without her."

The two were led a few steps away, and they stopped at the head of the table, where a bound wizard revolved slowly, whimpering as he did so. Blood leaked from his temple and fell onto an ever-growing puddle of crimson on the table. Narcissa kept her eyes down, but when the Dark Lord squeezed her shoulder rather painfully, she looked up.

The captive wizard at the head of the table was her father, Cygnus Black.

"This," said the Dark Lord, with Narcissa and Lucius at his side, "is the start of a new era. No longer will we tolerate the oppression of magical pure-blood witches and wizards." The Dark Lord looked directly at Narcissa's father, flashing his teeth in a chilling smile. "And no more shall we let the weak rule us."

Bellatrix appeared like a newly-formed shadow, her lips curled in delight as she looked over their father, who began his struggles once more.

"Cygnus," said the Dark Lord, "might have proven useful, had he conceded to my authority. Unfortunately, his pride robbed him of such a opportunity." The Dark Lord tilted his head at Bellatrix. "But at least he makes for a suitable gift, does he not?"

Bellatrix's smile deepened, though a flash of annoyance swept over her features when Abraxas Malfoy stepped forward. His mask had vanished; in its place was the face of a refined, cold wizard well into his seventies. He moved to stand in front of Narcissa's father. "Our deal still stands, Bellatrix?" asked the aged wizard with a sneer.

"Of course," said Bellatrix lowly.

Within an instant, a bolt of magical energy jumped from Abraxas's wand and hit their father, jarring him painfully as he screamed against his gag. Bellatrix's laughter was almost louder than the man's shrieks, and others turned to watch as Cygnus – who had wronged, double-crossed, threatened, and stole from many of the people in the room – contorted under the weight of the curse.

At one point, Mr. Black's strained, blood-shot eyes met Narcissa's, and she felt herself reliving that slap; the pain was just the same, the shock and the fear.

Abraxas hit him again and again, going on for what felt to Narcissa like hours, but in reality was only a few minutes. Finally, he sagged against the magic keeping him lifted, and his eyes closed. His chest moved only lightly.

"Steal from me, Black?" snarled Abraxas venomously. "Dare think that you are comparable to my family? Now you know your place. And all that was once yours is now mine!"

Mr. Black was jarred into awareness again when Abraxas hit him with the _Cruciatus_ curse, and Narcissa flinched against the noise. With one last brutal curse, Abraxas took a step back, composed himself, and then pointed his wand directly at Mr. Black's face. " _Avada Kedavra_ ," he hissed.

The bolt of green light struck their father, and his body fell on the table with a crash, ruining the table settings below.

All of this Narcissa watched, scarcely breathing, not moving or speaking. Tears streamed steadily down her face, but no one seemed to notice.

No one except Lucius Malfoy.

When Narcissa finally managed to pry her eyes away from the body of her father, Lucius was looking at her, his jaw tight. He did not look sympathetic; but at least he noticed.

The cold hand on Narcissa's shoulder returned, tight and unforgiving.

"It is time for your new lives to begin," said the Dark Lord, as the rest of the room turned to face them with eager looks of venom.

"Tonight," declared the Dark Lord, voice growing louder, "you are all Death Eaters!"


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Pressing forward…

* * *

_My first thought was escape._

_Never had my home at Grimmauld Place been a comfort, but now that Bellatrix and her Dark Lord controlled it, the house itself was a malevolent entity, determined to trap me and keep me in place._

_I had no intention of marrying Lucius Malfoy; I truly, earnestly did not want him, and I knew he did not want me. Not just because of the things he had said in school, but because I could read it on his face. He held not just indifference for me, but contempt – and this was even without knowledge of my part in Corinne's downfall. Lucius only knew the same thing I knew – that I was not who he wanted, nor was he who I desired, either. Not anymore._

_I wanted Iain._

_I could not write to him, though, and tell him of my predicament. If I did, I knew what he would do. Iain would try to save me._

_And he would be killed._

_If not by Lucius, who was determined to end his life, then by any other of the "Death Eater" types, who would need only to look at him to know he was a Muggleborn._

_So I made a plan. As soon as the summer was over, and I was prepared to return to Hogwarts for my seventh year, I would pack all my things and flee. Bellatrix would drop me off at the platform, and I would turn for Stirling, instead. I would go to Iain, and we would be safe._

_Unfortunately, that was not to happen._

* * *

 

"What do mean I'm not returning to Hogwarts?"

Narcissa rushed to her sister, who looked back at her, eyes dark. "Why on earth would you return to that Mudblood-infested hole?" Bellatrix sneered. "Seventh year is more of a formality than anything. Besides, you've learned all you need from schooling. What do you think you'll be doing as the wife of Lucius Malfoy? Writing term papers?"

Narcissa's heart sank. "But… but I enjoy school, Bellatrix."

"You don't _need_ further schooling, Narcissa," scowled Bellatrix, rounding to face her. "You're of age. You're getting married. Everything else you need to learn in life, you'll get from either your fellow ladies or your husband."

They were still in the Black home, standing in the decrepit bedroom that had once been theirs together. Although it had been two weeks since Narcissa's return home, she had not left the house once. Other people came and went, including the Malfoys, but no one spoke to Narcissa except Bellatrix. Narcissa felt thoroughly invisible.

"No, school is over for you, little Cissy," went on Bellatrix, idly standing near the window and watching the street. "By the time those fools return to classes, you'll already be married."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "So quickly?"

"Of course." Bellatrix turned to face her, smiling that eerie smile of hers. "It's all being arranged now. You're to head to a hotel in Manchester, lavish of course. That's where you'll reside while the ceremony is being decided." Her lip curled as she looked around their old room. "This place is hardly fit for you."

So many questions and concerns crossed Narcissa's mind, but at last she managed, "When?"

Bellatrix faced her. "The ceremony will be in three weeks. The announcement is already in the paper."

Narcissa's lips parted, and she fought to close the growing hole in her chest. Bellatrix's eyes narrowed on her, and Narcissa forced herself to look up, to meet her sister's gaze. They were alone; she could talk to Bellatrix, couldn't she?

"Bella," whispered Narcissa, trying desperately not to cry. "What if… what if I don't want to marry Lucius Malfoy?"

Her sister's eyes widened in genuine surprise, as if Narcissa's agony had not been apparent at all to her. She seemed sincerely shocked. "Not want to marry Lucius Malfoy?" Bellatrix repeated. "Why on earth not?"

Narcissa breathed in shakily. "Because – because there is someone else," she murmured, but she barely had the words out before Bellatrix cut her off.

"Oh, please," sneered Bellatrix. "Someone better than Lucius Malfoy? Are you bloody stupid?" Narcissa shrank in on herself as Bellatrix approached, fury leaking into her features. "Surely you must be joking. You've been in love with Lucius Malfoy since you were eleven years old! You were just going on about him at Christmas!"

"I know, but – "

"I'm giving you the _world_ , Cissy! The best life you could possibly hope to live!" exclaimed Bellatrix, dark eyes alight. "And I had to sacrifice for your happiness, didn't I? I had to promise that old bastard Abraxas he could kill our father, when you and I both know that should have been MY privilege! I should have been the one to end him, after all he did to me! To us! But no, I gave that up so you could have your husband, your dream life! What you've been pining after since you were a little girl!"

Narcissa clenched her eyes closed, feeling all the more terrible because Bellatrix was right. She had always wanted to be with Lucius Malfoy. She had desired it above everything else in her life. She had talked about him endlessly, dreamed of his touch and his voice.

"How dare you?" questioned Bellatrix, and Narcissa opened her eyes wide at her sister's hurt tone. It sounded so close to sincere, Narcissa's heart could not help but believe it. "After all I have done for you," went on Bellatrix, her voice soft but still heated. "Haven't I always protected you, Cissy? When you were too weak and too soft, wasn't I strong for you?"

"Yes, Bella," murmured Narcissa tearfully.

"And now here I am," said Bellatrix, stepping closer, "securing for you a future that others would murder for… and you are telling me that you want to throw it away? And for what? Some school crush?" Bellatrix put a hand over her own heart. "What have I ever done to deserve such blatant betrayal from you?"

"Please, Bella… it's not like that. I love you – "

"You hurt me," interrupted Bellatrix, eyes narrowed. One of her fingernails, sharp at its point, reached up and dropped down Narcissa's wet cheek. "You hurt my heart, rejecting all my hard work this way."

"I don't – I wouldn't," Narcissa tried, but she could feel herself falling against the guilt, suffocating underneath it.

"Cissy, Cissy…" Bellatrix stopped her fingers at Narcissa's jaw. "If only you knew what the world was like, you would not treat me so badly. You would be grateful for what I've given you: a protector. A shield." Bellatrix shook her head, scorn deep in her dark eyes, and condescending pity in front of that. "What do you even know of the way things are, little sister? Where have you been in your short life? What could you ever hope to do on your own?"

Narcissa's eyes lowered. She could do nothing.

"All I'm doing," purred Bellatrix, sliding one hand over Narcissa's cheek, "is making certain that you will be cared for. The Malfoys will do that. And in doing so, they will be our greatest possible allies."

"What do you mean?" asked Narcissa very quietly.

Bellatrix's features deepened into a smile. "The Malfoys are highly, highly favored by the Dark Lord. They are his right hand. And I am his left. We are the two most powerful houses in his order… and soon enough, one of us will have to come out on top. So, we can either be in league with them… or we can compete against them." She raised both brows and stroked Narcissa's fair hair. "But with you as Lucius Malfoy's wife… we will never have to worry about them trying to usurp us. For you will be there, watching them. And when Abraxas finally dies, you inherit all that was his. So everything he thinks we are giving to him now… will only return to you."

So none of this was about Narcissa's security at all. She understood at last.

Bellatrix was still stroking her hair tenderly. When her eyes dropped again to Narcissa's face, she smiled once more. "You and I will always work together, won't we, Cissy? Isn't that how we survive?"

Narcissa blinked. "Yes, Bella."

After that, Bellatrix drew Narcissa into her grip and hugged her, which she rarely did. Narcissa let her blank, wet face lean against Bellatrix's front. "Where is Andromeda?" whispered Narcissa numbly.

"I don't know," admitted Bellatrix, still holding her. "I believe now that she may be hiding from me."

Narcissa shifted her head to look up at Bellatrix's face. "Why would she do that?"

"I'm not sure," admitted Bellatrix, her dark eyes flickering. "But she will come and find me soon… if she wise."

Bellatrix left after that.

* * *

Narcissa spent that entire night – all the hours of darkness available to her – thinking about what to do. At one point, she even packed up a bag, walked outside, and stood on the moonlit street, staring down one way and then the other.

She could Apparate, but she had never been anywhere near where Iain lived, and so she could not come even close to him. She could take the Knight Bus, but she wasn't sure if it went as far as Scotland. She suspected not.

_If only you knew what the world was like… Where have you been in your short life? What could you ever hope to do on your own?_

A voice sounded in the house; it was Bellatrix calling for her.

Feeling like there was a hole in her chest, Narcissa picked up her bag and headed back inside the house.

* * *

The next morning, Narcissa cut out the _Daily Prophet_ article detailing her engagement to Lucius. The article did not even feature a picture of Narcissa; it showed only Lucius, and gave Narcissa's name in the text. She was not the big news – Lucius was.

With tears pouring down her face, Narcissa folded up the article and slipped it into an envelope. After staring at a blank piece of parchment for over an hour, she finally wrote:

_Algernon,_

_Do not ever write to me again._

_Narcissa_

A tear dropped onto the parchment, and Narcissa hurriedly wiped it away, but it smeared the last letter in her name. Once she was done, she put the short note in the envelope with the newspaper article and walked it down the stairs to their owl. Her hand trembled, and she held tight to the envelope, knowing it would destroy Iain when he received it.

But she could not explain to him what had happened. She could not ask him to come and get her, which he would, she knew, in an instant. He would die if he stepped foot here. And if he had even a hint that she was being forced, he would come anyway.

So Narcissa reached out her shaking hand and let the owl take the envelope, which it did. Then it jumped up and flew away, carrying Narcissa's heart with it.

* * *

As Bellatrix had promised, Narcissa was taken away from the Black family home a few days later. She never saw the house again.

Instead, Narcissa was taken to an elegant wizarding hotel in London. The establishment was ostentatious, overwhelming in its complexity and brightness. Narcissa was taken to a large suite, where several other high society women – closer relatives of Lucius, she learned – waited for her. Narcissa's heart hoped to make friends with them, but she soon realized these witches were just as shallow as her friends from school, and even more openly harsh.

For the next three weeks, Narcissa was a centerpiece, a doll, and nothing more.

People came and measured her. Others came and tested hairstyles and makeups on her, never once asking her opinion. She was never, ever alone; there were others around her constantly, criticizing this and changing that. Narcissa's head was spinning, and she could scarcely keep up with it all. She was given food to eat, but never allowed to be full. She was given a luxurious bed to sleep in, but awakened all the time for fittings and gatherings and yet more criticisms.

Perhaps the worst of all these ladies was Madam Elaine Rosier, an elderly witch who Narcissa came to understand ran the Malfoy household. She was not Abraxas's wife, as Lucius's mother had died many years before. Instead, Madam Rosier was a governess of sorts, a keeper of the household. She was also almost certainly Abraxas's mistress (despite the fact that the man was well into his nineties), but that was only mentioned in hushed whispers, and Narcissa had no desire to participate or even eavesdrop. She did not care what Madam Rosier did. The woman was strict, pushy, and often outright cruel. She once slapped a servant – not a house-elf, but a real witch – for placing a teacup on the wrong area of the tray. Narcissa saw it happen, and she ducked her head, praying she never received such treatment.

Despite the fact that Narcissa was to be the wife of the most important up and coming wizard in the country, no one seemed ready to afford her any respect. Narcissa quickly understood this was mostly out of jealousy; many witches had become hopeful at Corinne's demise, but it was Narcissa who had gained the coveted position of Lucius's bride.

Even those who were as close as a first cousin to Lucius were hostile, and they seemed to believe that – despite the proceedings of the wedding – there was still a chance they could humiliate or harass Narcissa out of favor.

If Narcissa had not already experienced so much misery in her young life, those three weeks would have certainly been among the worst. As it was, they were simply another phase of darkness in Narcissa's never-ending eclipse.

Narcissa did not see Lucius or Bellatrix the entire three weeks she was hidden away, being planned around, but never with. Finally, the day of the ceremony came, and Narcissa was shipped – under Madam Rosier's watchful eye – to the grand cathedral where the wedding was to take place.

As many times as Narcissa had imagined her wedding day, never had it been like this, being pulled in so many different directions and with so many strangers, none of whom were warm or kind or even understanding. There was not an ounce of sympathy to be had for Narcissa, not in all the world, it seemed. All she saw around her was a sea of anger, envy, and hurt pride.

Narcissa felt it crushing her very soul.

Desperate to get away, to be alone for the first time in weeks, Narcissa managed to dash out of her changing room just ten minutes before the ceremony was set to begin. Tripping over her heavy formal robes, Narcissa found a small hallway and stumbled to a stop, hitting the wall with her shoulder and letting out a loud sob.

"Narcissa?"

Fear seized Narcissa's heart, but when she turned, she saw it was not one of the ladies who had found her. It was Thaddeus.

Narcissa let out a strangled noise and reached for Thaddeus just as he rushed to her and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "Oh, Thaddeus…"

"What happened?" he whispered, brows furrowed. "I don't understand. Aren't you returning to school?"

"I can't," whispered Narcissa back. "Bellatrix trapped me as soon as I came home last month. She's given me to Lucius Malfoy because of some – agreement or something with Abraxas Malfoy." Whimpering, Narcissa fell into Theo's arms, and he held her.

"I'm so sorry, Narcissa," murmured Thaddeus. "Does – does _he_ know?"

"I wrote to him," said Narcissa miserably. "But I don't – I can't imagine what he – I didn't want him trying to come here. It's too dangerous." Biting her lip, Narcissa held tight to Thaddeus's nice dress robes. "Thaddeus, I'm so scared," she whispered in a tiny voice. "I don't even know Lucius, not really. What if he – what if… " Her body tightened, recoiling against the thought.

Thaddeus frowned deeply. Then he sighed, reaching into a pocket of his robes and pulling out a small bottle. It contained a deep, dark potion that appeared quite thick and viscous. He pressed it into Narcissa's hand. "If it looks like things might get… rough… take this. It's what some witches use on their first nights with their husbands." He looked ashamed. "It doesn't do much… basically, you just won't remember the night. It'll feel like you're asleep. So if he does hurt you, you won't know it."

Narcissa stared at the bottle in her hand. "Is that the best I can hope for?" she asked, more to herself than to him. "To forget?"

"I don't know," Thaddeus admitted, eyes low.

Someone down the hall called out Narcissa's name sharply. "Where are you, girl?" snarled Madam Rosier, her voice like a whip. Narcissa closed her eyes for a moment before looking back to Thaddeus.

"Thank you," she murmured at last, hugging him one more time. "I wish – I wish if I'd been forced to marry someone else, it would have at least been you."

"I wish that, too," he told her adamantly. "You're going to be alright, Narcissa."

She didn't believe him, but she nodded anyway.

"Narcissa!" snapped the voice down the hall again.

"Good-bye," said Narcissa softly, turning and hurrying back to the dressing room.

* * *

The ceremony began. A man Narcissa did not recognize – but later discovered was her uncle – walked her down the aisle. The vows were read by someone else, a toneless voice somewhere behind the pair. Lucius looked splendid and cold. He did not look at Narcissa's face, and when he held her hand for the bonding ceremony, his fingers were stiff. He recoiled when their hands were joined, though it was such a quick motion, Narcissa almost convinced herself she had imagined in.

When the call for a kiss came, Lucius leaned over and brushed his lips – just barely – over Narcissa's. And then it was over.

Narcissa Black was now Narcissa Malfoy. It was the moment she had always dreamed of.

And yet it was no exaggeration to say that she was most heartily and earnestly ready to die.

* * *

Narcissa and Lucius shared an equally uncomfortable dance, and then they sat at their table, scarcely eating from their plates, never speaking. The wedding seemed to last for hours, but finally, it was acceptable for them to leave, and they walked together to the front of the banquet hall and turned to their guests.

"Thank you all for attending our happy occasion," said Lucius to the crowd, ever the aristocrat. He even gave a small smile; it was so clearly forced, Narcissa almost let out a very unladylike bark of laughter. "I now must retire with my wife."

The crowd clapped wildly, some calling out and a few older wizards making some bawdy comments. Narcissa and Lucius turned and left the building, coming to a thestral-drawn carriage that was waiting for them.

When they climbed inside, they were finally alone. Just the two of them.

Or at least, they were alone until the doors opened again, and Abraxas Malfoy entered, with Madam Rosier right on his heels. Even Lucius seemed startled.

"Father?" he questioned.

The aged wizard gave his son a disgruntled look. "Madam Rosier and I will be accompanying you two to the manor… to make certain you complete your duties as husband and wife."

Narcissa's eyes widened, and she stared at her lap, praying for the wind to take her with it and carry her away. She remained silent the entire ride, as did Lucius. In her large robes and tight underclothes, Narcissa felt even more suffocated where she was wedged between Madam Rosier and the wall of the carriage. Lucius seemed equally uncomfortable, but all four of the carriage occupants remained silent.

Within a half-hour, the carriage settled to a stop. When it did, the door opened, and Abraxas exited first, leaning heavily on a cane. Madam Rosier was next, and then Lucius, who turned and held out a hand for Narcissa, though he somehow made the simple gentlemanly gesture feel quite belligerent.

As soon as he let go, Narcissa turned and looked up, only to find in front of her the largest and most elaborate English manor she had ever seen in her life.

She must have been here once or twice when she was very young, but she could not recall it.

After that moment, however, it would forever remain engrained in her memory. Beautiful and haunting, the manor seemed to stretch from one end of the earth to the other. The grounds were massive, sculpted in all manner of elegant styles, with witches and wizards working the plants even though night had fallen and the sky was dark. Torches lined the stone walkways, all of which were lined perfectly with kept grass and well-maintained flowers. Somehow, the wildness of the flowers seemed muted by their perfect positioning. It bothered Narcissa that none seemed free to grow. Instead, they were cut each time they dared fall in the wrong direction.

Moving up to the illustrious entrance to the mansion, Abraxas waved his arm and the doors opened to a grand entryway. Narcissa looked around, unable to keep from gawking. Apparently, the home had been prepared for their arrival, for it was lined with servants waiting to greet them. They were not just house-elves, either, but witches and wizards in uniformed robes who stood stiffly in their spots, bowing as Abraxas and Madam Rosier passed.

None of this seemed the least bit surprising or odd to Lucius, of course, who passed by the servants as if he did not even notice them. It was quite possible that he did not. Narcissa, on the other hand, was very distracted, and she did not even notice they had come to a stop until she'd nearly run into Lucius. He gave her a dirty look.

"Here," said Madam Rosier with a prim sneer, "are young Lucius's quarters, which you will be sharing with him. It contains a master bedroom, a drawing room, two lavatories and a sunroom. There is also another small connected room where your personal servants sleep."

The doors opened again, and Lucius walked in without even waiting for Narcissa, who hurried in behind him. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Abraxas and Madam Rosier had followed them into the bedroom. Her heart began to pound. They weren't really going to _watch_ them, were they?

Lucius seemed to have the same concern. When the servants stepped forward, he held up a hand to stop them and turned to face Abraxas.

"Father," he said quietly, grey eyes dark. "I believe I can handle it from here."

Abraxas looked over Lucius as if appraising whether or not his son was speaking the truth. Then he grunted, his aged features twisted in a snarl. "Very well then," he said, before turning with a hobble of his cane. Madam Rosier hesitated, giving Narcissa much the same critical look. Then she motioned to the servants, who stepped forward again and started helping Lucius and Narcissa out of their heavy ceremonial robes. Narcissa flushed scarlet when they quickly and expressionlessly stripped her down to her underclothes, and she hurriedly pulled her arms over her chest.

After that, Madam Rosier – who seemed cruelly amused by Narcissa's embarrassment – turned and left as well. The servants followed, and finally – truly, this time – Narcissa and Lucius were left on their own.

Narcissa felt her entire body tremble, and she could only look at Lucius out of the corner of her eye. He was standing next to her, his long hair untied, his body covered in a long, loose undershirt and knee-length trousers that had been under his robes. He was deliberately not looking at Narcissa, but instead glaring at a non-descript corner.

Wanting nothing more than to be covered, Narcissa swiped at her face, trying to clear it of tears, and then she headed to the large four-poster bed that was Lucius's. After a moment, Lucius followed, and they slipped into the bed together. It was a wonderful bed, made of the finest materials Narcissa had ever slept in. Still, it chafed her skin like sandpaper. She felt even more exposed than before, and she kept as still as stone. Her mind traveled back to that potion Thaddeus had given her. She'd pressed it into her palm, hidden, when the servants had undressed her. Curling her torso, she peered at it in the semi-darkness of the room, wondering if she should take it.

If Lucius forced himself on her, she would have to. Otherwise, she would be forced to live with those memories for the rest of her life.

Lucius shifted next to her, and Narcissa flinched, fingers tight on the potion.

But instead of reaching for her, Lucius blew out the candle next to the bed and settled back against the sheets, his hands on his stomach and his glare on the canopy. Narcissa's trembling gaze slid to him, anxious, but Lucius did not look at her or speak. As soon as he felt Narcissa's eyes fell on him, he shifted so that his back was to her.

He said nothing to Narcissa, and she nothing to him. So instead of taking the potion, Narcissa reached over as silently as she could and slipped it into the drawer next to the bed.

Just in case.

* * *

When Narcissa awoke the next morning, Lucius was gone.

Instead, it was Madam Rosier's pinched face that greeted her. There were already servants in the room, opening the curtains and lighting the lanterns. Narcissa was hurried out of bed and over to her vanity, where Madam Rosier directed her in how she should look that day.

Then Narcissa was taken to some social gathering, and after that, a luncheon.

And so it went on all day, being escorted from one place to the other, wearing robes she had never seen, much less picked out, and sitting in on conversations that did not concern her. Her opinion was never asked, not even by the other ladies, and their general demeanor was even more catty than even Narcissa was accustomed to dealing with.

When she returned to the Malfoy Manor that night for dinner, she found no relief.

Dinner at the Malfoy home was a stiff, formal affair, with Abraxas at the head of the table, Madam Rosier on his left, and Lucius on his right. Narcissa was seated at Lucius's side, but he did not even greet her when she came in. Attendants and servants waited nearby, watching them as they ate.

Once more, the conversation happened around her, and no one spoke to Narcissa. When she went to bed that night, Lucius repeated what he had done the night before, coming into the bed and then immediately turning over and going to sleep.

* * *

And so went Narcissa's life for the next two weeks, day in and day out. The people sometimes changed, and the schedule deviated between this and that, but mostly, Narcissa was a piece of debris caught in a river's current, being pulled this way and that with no way to say what she wanted or didn't want. Lucius did not address her, rarely speaking even in her direction, and he did not attempt to touch her at night. This was at least a small relief, though after a while, she wished he would at least speak.

* * *

And then one day, Narcissa nearly lost herself entirely.

It was three weeks removed from Narcissa's wedding, and she was sitting in the Manor's sitting room, working on her music lessons with Madam Rosier, who was perpetually discontented with Narcissa's abilities. Narcissa had never had the chance to attend finishing school, as many young ladies in her position had, so she was embarrassingly behind the other witches her age. Madam Rosier seemed to love nothing more than to remind her of these shortcomings at every available opportunity.

"Madams," came the voice of a house-elf, and the group of ladies – other well-to-do witches who acted peevishly with Narcissa – looked up. "There is a visitor here for Mistress Malfoy."

For a moment, no one seemed to know who the house-elf was referencing. Then all eyes turned to Narcissa, who stopped what she was doing, her eyes wide. Madam Rosier sniffed, eyes flashing angrily. "Who would dare come and call on Narcissa without going through me first?"

The house-elf paused. "A Miss Andromeda Black, madam."

Narcissa gasped and jumped to her feet. "Andromeda?" she called out desperately, but Madam Rosier was on her feet as well, and she stopped in front of Narcissa with a haughty look.

"Sit down. No one will see you without my express permission."

"My sister is of age," came the voice, and Narcissa's heart leaped when Andromeda appeared. "She may see whom she wishes."

For a moment, Andromeda truly looked Bellatrix's twin; her eyes were narrowed on Madam Rosier, and her expression – normally distinct from Bellatrix's because of its softness – was quite serious.

"How dare you?" hissed Madam Rosier. "You are in the Malfoy home! You will act with respect!"

Andromeda ignored her and turned to Narcissa, her features melting into the warm expression Narcissa knew so well. She held out her hands, and Narcissa hurried around Madam Rosier's sizeable frame, curling into Andromeda's arms. "If you will excuse us," said Andromeda coyly to Madam Rosier, who let out a huff and immediately stormed out of the room. Andromeda pulled Narcissa into the hallway.

"Are you alright, sister?" she asked, sweeping her hands over Narcissa's face. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here before! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Where have you been?" asked Narcissa in a hushed whisper. "I needed you before!"

"I – I was … with someone," admitted Andromeda. "And I was trying to steer clear of Bellatrix. I didn't know she had all _this_ planned!" She gestured vaguely to the mansion. When she did, Narcissa's eyes caught a flash of something gold.

"Andromeda…" Narcissa's eyes lifted to her sister's. "Did you… get married?"

Her older sister looked over her face before tugging her further from the sitting room. They ducked into a small alcove next to a window, and Andromeda lightly pulled Narcissa down to sit with her. "I did," she said, unable to hide her smile. "I'm sorry, it was – it was sudden, but not really. Well, I mean – "

And then she touched her stomach and smiled.

Narcissa's lips parted. "You're pregnant?" she asked, and Andromeda nodded excitedly, practically giggling.

"And I'm so happy, Cissy. I love him so much. Are you happy for me?"

"I suppose," said Narcissa cautiously. "Who is he?"

Andromeda's hands squeezed Narcissa's, and her eyes appeared to be shining. It felt wrong to Narcissa. Something was wrong. "He is… Well, his name is Ted Tonks," Andromeda said softly. She looked directly at Narcissa. "You do not know him. He was a few year ahead of me at Hogwarts, and he – "

Narcissa's heart felt tight.

"He's… " Andromeda looked up at Narcissa. "He's a Muggleborn."

And just like that, Narcissa's body became numb. A few seconds passed in stillness before she pulled her hands away from Andromeda's, turning away as she took a few steps, her blank stare on the wall. "Is that why you've been gone?" asked Narcissa, turning to face her sister. "Because you were hiding him from Bella?"

"Well, yes," admitted Andromeda, standing, her brows furrowed with concern. "I just thought – we could get things settled, and then – I just wanted to have a nice little ceremony, and be with friends. I thought you would be fine for the summer, I didn't believe – "

"I wasn't fine, Andromeda," cut in Narcissa, unable to convey enough of her dismay, her hurt, to do justice to the way her heart felt it was tearing in two. "I wasn't fine at all. And you were – you were off getting married, getting pregnant. You were gone." Betrayal – regret – it all pierced Narcissa anew. "This is why you've barely been writing. Why you've disappeared so often. You complained Bellatrix going on about her business, but you… you were hiding this all along."

Andromeda's eyes filled with tears. "I wasn't trying to hide from you, Narcissa. I just – Ted and I, we were trying to – "

"You and Ted, you and ted!" lashed out Narcissa, growing furious. "Where were you when I was cast out at school, Andromeda? When Father left me with no gold for the entire term? When I got done with the year, and there was no one at the station to greet me? Where were _you_ , Andromeda? With your happy little family?"

"Please don't be like this," Andromeda pleaded. "I'm sorry, Cissy! I should have been there, but – "

"You chose him over us!" shouted Narcissa. "You didn't care what was happening to me! Bellatrix cared! When I needed gold, she was there! When Father abused me in front of all the teachers at school, she went and tracked him down! When I had no one and nothing, she was thinking of me! Making plans for me! And where were you? When I needed you the most, where did you go?" Narcissa struck out with her wand, and all the lights in the hallway shattered. " _To your MUDBLOOD HUSBAND_!"

Andromeda jumped, and Narcissa barely suppressed an angry sob. "I'm sorry, Cissy," whispered Andromeda, tears pouring down her face. "I got caught up. I shouldn't have left you so alone, I just…"

"And for a Mudblood," went on Narcissa, her entire body shaking. "How dare you?" The question echoed between them, the silence filled only by Narcissa's true question – _how dare you do what I was too afraid to do? How dare you live my dream? How dare you have the courage that I did not?_

"What do you want me to do, Narcissa?" asked Andromeda desperately. "How could you ask me to abandon someone I love, just because he's a Muggleborn?"

" _BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT I DID!"_

Andromeda balked, her face frozen with shock. "… What?" she asked, but just then, Madam Rosier appeared with several other servants, all of whom had their wands extended. Narcissa, red-faced and agonized, looked at Andromeda with such deep contempt, such misplaced loathing that it shocked her very senses.

"Get out," she growled to Andromeda. "Get out of my bloody house, and do not ever show up here again. You know what will happen if you do."

"Please, Narcissa," cried Andromeda. "Don't do this. I can't lose you, I can't – "

"GET OUT!" screamed Narcissa.

The servants stepped forward, and within moments, Andromeda was being forcibly led out of the house. Madam Rosier watched with smug satisfaction as Andromeda was pushed out of the door.

Through her blurred eyes, Narcissa saw Andromeda's tear-stained face for only a moment. Then they were gone, shut off beyond the front doors of the manor.

After that, Narcissa did not see Andromeda Black Tonks for twenty-seven years.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Hi everyone! For those of you who are missing Iain, don't worry. He WILL return to this story… and for those of you who are fans of Lucius, I hope you enjoy his time here as well. (:

**Trigger Warning**  [SKIP IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS]: … At the very end of this chapter is a miscarriage. It is not overly graphic, but may still be upsetting to some.

* * *

_The next few months passed uneventfully._

_Each day, I was primped and prepared by Madam Rosier and according to her standards at all times. Lucius offered no opinion either way, and many days, I only saw him at night when he returned to the manor and attended dinner, or sometimes even after that, when he came to bed._

_I was never alone. Madam Rosier was always there. Many days, she assembled a nasty group of well-to-do witches so she could share her scorn with them. It was a grueling experience, worse even than being around my so-called friends at school. No matter what I did, my very existence was met with contempt or condemnation. Nothing I did was good enough, skilled enough, proper enough._

_It did not take long for me to give up, and one day when I woke, I felt as if a piece of me remained asleep. That feeling did not go away, and each day, I passed through the motions listlessly, half-dormant, never smiling._

_Every night, I thought of Iain._

_I wondered if he was alright working in his muggle father's shop. I cried when I thought about him receiving my letter. I hoped – even against my own will – that he would find me, and miraculously, we would both escape. But there was to be no escape._

_This was my life now._

* * *

1973 bled away and was replaced by 1974.

At the long Malfoy dinner table, Narcissa stared at her plate and moved her fork occasionally. Abraxas and Lucius were both present, as they were only rarely. However, it did not matter if they were at the table or not. Narcissa was never invited to speak.

In fact, no one at the table had spoken for nearly fifteen minutes. The only sounds were the movements of their utensils and the slurping of tea. If Narcissa had bothered to glance up, though, she would have noticed Abraxas glaring at his son, who, too, was focused on his plate.

"Lucius!" barked Abraxas, making Narcissa jump and Lucius flinch. "Why isn't your wife pregnant yet?"

Narcissa's eyes flickered up, and a humiliated flush jumped up her neck. However, she did not lift her head. Lucius shifted next to her, and Narcissa tilted her head just enough to see his face, which was set in hard lines. His grey eyes flashed at Abraxas's abrupt question, but when he answered, his voice was calm and even.

"I don't know, Father."

Abraxas grunted. "You two have been married for six months now! What's the bloody hold up? Is she unfit?"

Lucius ate a bite of food before responding. "It just hasn't happened yet, Father."

"Pah!" Abraxas waved a gnarled hand. "Healthy young man like you! Ridiculous! It must be her." He turned to Madam Rosier, who sat on his other side. "Take the girl to the midwife soon. Have her checked over, make sure she's not defective."

Narcissa closed her eyes solemnly.

"I will certainly do that, Master Malfoy," said Madam Rosier with a curl of her lips. "And perhaps while she's there, we should have her head checked as well? After all, we don't want her ending up like her mother, do we?"

Narcissa's grip tightened on her fork. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucius glance at her.

At Madam Rosier's comment, Abraxas grunted. "Last bloody thing we need," he agreed gruffly. "A bloody headcase!" He turned to Lucius again. "I've told you before, boy. I won't be around much longer, and I need to know you have a bloody heir! You'd better get to it!" Before Lucius could even respond, Abraxas turned back to Madam Rosier. "Imagine, having to tell a bloody nineteen-year-old to get his wife pregnant." Abraxas waggled his finger. "I never had to tell either of his brothers, did I? No, they had a dozen children between the two of them! And some of them were even legitimate!"

"Well, you can't blame dear Lucius," said Madam Rosier, sending an arrogant look in Narcissa's direction. "Look at what he has to work with. Skinny, sour, talentless. I hope whatever you traded her for was worth it."

"We'll see," said the old wizard, digging into his food once more.

* * *

That same evening, Narcissa felt as if two stones had been tied to her feet, and a third to her heart. Once she was finally away from Madam Rosier for the night, she changed into her nightgown and slipped into bed. As always, she closed her eyes and thought of Iain.

A few minutes later, Lucius joined in her in bed. They had been married for just over six months, and he had never made a move to touch her once. However, after a few minutes of stillness in the dark bedroom, Lucius shifted next to her and very abruptly pulled himself over her.

Narcissa's shot open, her fragile peace destroyed.

Lucius was looking down at her, hair still tied back, grey eyes on her face. His expression was void of empathy, and Narcissa remembered thinking he could have been looking at a stone wall for all the emotion he showed. Huffing a little, Lucius reached down beneath the blankets and took Narcissa's nightgown in his hand.

Narcissa froze as he began to push it up. They were still under the blankets, and neither of them could see anything, but she could feel his hand moving up her body. The motion was not rough or violent, but it seemed impatient.

When she felt Lucius grip her bare hip, Narcissa began to tremble violently.

She did not try to stop him; she knew why he was doing this. But she could not stop her body's reaction to it, the way every muscle in her body clenched in resistance to his touch. A few tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks even while she kept her arms locked at her sides.

Lucius stayed this way for almost a full minute.

Then he growled and flopped back over onto his back, letting go of Narcissa and putting space between them again. Narcissa blinked rapidly and then turned her head to look over at him, still shaking like a leaf. Lucius scowled deeply.

"I cannot do anything if you are crying and shaking," he snapped at last, glaring at the canopy of the bed.

Narcissa managed to draw in a deep breath and calm herself some. "Why not?" she asked in a small voice. "Most men would not even care."

Lucius turned his head to look at her. "I am Lucius Malfoy," he said. "I am not most men." And with that, he turned over and went to sleep.

* * *

The following day, Madam Rosier – with an extra air of malicious delight – took Narcissa to St. Mungo's and had a midwife and a healer address her physical status. The midwife was not very kind, and she did not bother explaining even the most invasive parts of the exam, which were quite awful.

And of course, Madam Rosier was present the entire time, talking about Narcissa as if she were a piece of equipment or a tool rather than a person.

She also had a healer look at Narcissa, although Narcissa did not understand that part, mostly because the questions the healer asked seemed very odd. She did her best to seem healthy (she was underweight, the healer told her) and normal, but she was not sure how well she did. Either way, she knew the midwife had found no deformities with her, and they were eventually allowed to leave.

That same evening, Abraxas and Lucius were at dinner again. They had barely begun eating when Abraxas looked up at Madam Rosier. "Well, did you take her?"

Narcissa almost screamed. They were really going to discuss her examination? At the dinner table? Wasn't medical information  _private_? Did they believe she had no dignity or humanity at all?

All of these questions were rudely answered within a few moments, and none of what followed was comforting.

"Apparently, she is well enough," said Madam Rosier, taking a dainty sip of her tea. "The midwife saw no reason why she should not be able to get pregnant, although she and the healer both mentioned that she is too small. Then again, her mother Druella was always too skinny as well. She lost one of her children, you know, early on. Rather weak, over all. It wouldn't surprise me if the girl were the same way."

The grey sections of Narcissa's heart flared to a burning red at the mention of her mother.

"But at least it seems they are trying to conceive," went on Madam Rosier, as if she were discussing the weather, "seeing as how the midwife determined she no longer has her maidenhead."

Narcissa's eyes widened. Next to her, Lucius froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.

The young couple remained stock still, side by side, each waiting to see the reaction of the other. Narcissa could scarcely breathe, terrified to see what Lucius would do. The moment lingered on. Finally, Lucius replaced his fork with the bite uneaten, and after a few more minutes, he cleared his throat.

"I believe it is time my wife and I retire," he said stiffly. Abraxas and Madam Rosier both seemed ready to protest, but Lucius stood away from the table and offered his hand to Narcissa.

She had no choice but to take it, although it was certainly the last thing she wanted to do. As soon as Lucius's hand locked around hers, the grip became almost painful.

Moments later, they crossed the threshold into their shared quarters, and Lucius slowly and securely locked the door behind them. Even with his back turned, Narcissa could sense his fury.

Lucius's next words were as severe as she'd ever heard them. "You…  _whore_."

He whirled to face her, and Narcissa took a quick step back, even as he advanced on her. "How dare you marry me under the pretense of being a virgin, when you are not?"

Narcissa stared. Lucius was terrifying when he was angry; this was something she had never known or noticed when they were at Hogwarts together. For the first time since coming to the Manor, she felt truly threatened by him. However, this was not Narcissa's only realization. In the same moment, she understood something not just about Lucius, but about herself.

Narcissa decided, right then, that she was  _so_   _fucking tired_  of being afraid.

Her fingers curled into fists, and her own rage boiled over. "How dare I?" she asked incredulously, features morphing into a furious mask to rival his. "Are you bloody joking? How dare YOU call me a whore, you  _bloody fucking hypocrite_?"

Lucius's expression shifted to shock. "Me? A hypocrite?"

"YES, YOU!" yelled Narcissa. "You call me a whore for not being a virgin, and yet YOU and CORINNE have been going at it like rabbits since FOURTH FUCKING YEAR!"

Lucius's face turned a brilliant shade of red. Narcissa had never seen an expression like it on his face. "That was different!" shouted Lucius, no longer calm and collected. "Corinne and I were together for years! We intended to get married!" He locked eyes with Narcissa and went on disdainfully, "You weren't dating anyone in school. Which can only mean you just gave yourself to someone like a common harlot."

"I WAS WITH SOMEONE!" screamed Narcissa, marching right up to him. "And I loved him! I had every bloody INTENTION of being with him, until Bellatrix trapped me here with you! So STOP thinking you're the only one of us who's lost someone you love, because you're NOT!"

Lucius stared, lips parted as Narcissa jabbed him in the chest with a finger and went on furiously, "I would rather live in a bloody SHACK with him than spend one more day living here with you! So go on, then, Lucius! Go and tell Abraxas I'm not the pristine little virgin that you were promised, so he can condemn me! So he can cast me out on the street with nothing!" Narcissa tossed out both of her arms. "For the love of Merlin, FREE ME from this  _FUCKING prison_!"

Heaving, Narcissa took two steps back and then turned her back on him, one hand fisted in her own hair. After several seconds of silence, she heard Lucius shift.

"…Prison?" he repeated in disbelief, "Are you really that miserable here?"

Narcissa looked up at him with a tear-stained face. Jaw tight, she managed through gritted teeth, "I go to sleep at night praying I do not wake in the morning. Does that answer your question, Lucius?"

Before Lucius could respond, Narcissa yanked a pillow off the bed and marched off to the adjacent sitting room, dropping onto a couch and covering herself with her own cloak, because she did not know where another blanket was. Lucius moved in their bedroom, pacing listlessly for a while, but eventually he went to sleep without coming to speak with her again.

* * *

A few days went by, and it would seem Abraxas was none the wiser to Narcissa's confession, which meant Lucius had kept it to himself for whatever reason. Narcissa returned to their bed the following night, and Lucius did the same, nodding to her when he saw her and then getting in bed without touching her.

However, it was less than a week later when Abraxas began hounding them about children again, and when they both came to the bedroom that evening, Narcissa leaned against the bedpost and waited for Lucius to come out of the bathroom. The anger from before simmered under her skin from yet another dinner where she was treated with less respect than the tablemats, so her expression was quite hostile.

When Lucius came in, she looked him in the eye and said curtly, "We should just get it over with."

Lucius raised a brow. "Words every man wants to hear from his bedfellow," he replied dryly.

"Oh?" said Narcissa snippily, walking right up to him. "And am I supposed to believe this you being enthusiastic?"

To Narcissa's great surprise, Lucius's lip quirked at a smile. "Apparently, my enthusiasm is nothing compared to yours. I was beginning to think you could nothing but weep and sigh." He swept around her, and Narcissa's narrow eyes followed him. She marched to the other side of the bed.

"Are you implying that you like it when I insult you?" she asked, hands on her hips. "Because if so, I am more than happy to comply."

Lucius and Narcissa both climbed into the bed. "Narcissa," he said wearily, and she tried to remember the last time anyone had even said her name, "if I wanted a meek little mouse for a wife, do you really think I would have dated Corinne Lestrange for all those years?"

Narcissa paused where she was sitting up in the bed. She had never thought of it that way.

Narcissa had been raised to believe that the ideal pureblood witch was demure and feminine, tender and simple-minded. It was not becoming of a witch of her station to become involved in politics or to speak too loudly or boldly.

And yet that was what Corinne seemed to do all the time. For all her venomous traits, Corinne had also been confident, outspoken, and intelligent. And Lucius Malfoy had loved her above all others. How had Narcissa never thought about this before?

Sliding down into the bed, Narcissa remained quiet for a few minutes. Then she asked, "What happened to your brothers?" She had never even known he'd had any.

Lucius remained quiet for a while; she thought he might not answer, but eventually, he did. "They were much older than me," he told her, eyes on the bed canopy. "Ideal sons in every way, very much like my father. Ambitious to a fault." He paused, before going on, "They were both grown and married when the younger of the two decided he wanted to inherit everything, rather than just a portion. They began a war with one another. Eventually, the younger brother poisoned the older brother's entire family, killing off the brother, his wife, and their three children. Unfortunately, the older brother's wife also came from a rather … vengeful family. So they had my younger brother and his family killed, too." Lucius sighed. "That was well before I was born, but my father was already old by then. He and my mother struggled to conceive again for an heir, but eventually, they had me. And now I am all that is left."

Narcissa folded her hands over her stomach. "So that is why Abraxas is so determined for you to succeed."

"It would seem so."

Narcissa closed her eyes; she missed Iain so much it made her heart ache. However, it was strangely comforting to know that Lucius shared the pain of loss. Despite Corinne's poisonous demeanor, it was clear he had loved her desperately. They had been together for over three years. Lucius had many more memories to contend with than Narcissa did.

That did not mean she wanted to comfort him, but at least she was not alone in her suffering.

Night had fallen and the moon was only a thin sliver outside of their window. The room was very dark now that the candles were out. "Do you want to have a child?" asked the disembodied voice of Lucius just next to her.

Narcissa thought about it. It was kind of him to ask, so she gave it careful thought. She had always wanted children, but it was hard to imagine having one here, with Lucius. She dreamed still of Iain, and the thought of carrying anyone else's child was abominable to her.

But what choice did she have? Conceiving a child would help them both.

"I do," she admitted at last, very soft. "But I am afraid of having something else for Madam Rosier to control."

Lucius considered this. "She will only be around for a little while longer, so long as my father lives."

"So you do not care for her?" asked Narcissa.

Lucius made a soft noise of disgust. "If a parasite were to infiltrate my body and rot it from the inside out," said Lucius, "I would still love it better than I love Madam Rosier." A pause, and then he added almost coyly – "Does that answer you question?"

Narcissa felt her lips twitch at a smile. After a moment, she asked, "So… should we…?"

A heavy pause.

"Tomorrow," whispered Lucius.

* * *

The following day went much like many others for Narcissa, save for one terrifying moment.

While leaving the sitting room with Madam Rosier, a trio of servants briefly distracted the older witch, and Narcissa took the opportunity to slip away for a few blissful moments. As she wandered, hoping to get lost in the manor and walk alone for all eternity, she spotted a hint of movement at a descending staircase she had never noticed before. As they were on the ground floor, she could only assume the staircase went down to the dungeons.

There had apparently been a scuffle there recently. Boot marks marred the pristine floor, and there was an overturned table near the entrance to the stairs. Narcissa creeped closer, and she heard noises echoing up the stone walls. There was shrieking, muffled yells, and then a disgusting noise followed by a gurgle. Edging down the stairs, Narcissa peered into the dim corridor to see a man's bloody body being dragged away. Judging from his worn clothes and scruffy beard, he looked homeless.

Narcissa moved down further, shifting around a corner. Two wizards in cloaks dragged the man to a pit, and with a slam to the lever on the righthand side, the pit opened. A foul smell lifted into the air, and Narcissa nearly retched. Inside the pit, she could hear shuffling and the sounds of water, as well as grunts and groans. A chill shot down Narcissa's spine.

What the wizards did next was even worse.

With both of their wands pointed at the man, the cloaked wizards began a complicated spell that went on for a few minutes. Finally, the magic swarmed the dead body they'd dragged in, and the man's skin began to melt away, and his eyes shot open only to reveal unseeing white orbs.

Horror like she'd never experienced in her life coursed through Narcissa. She was watching necromancy.

The dead man began to rise, now no longer human, but an Inferius. Before he could fully re-animate, one of the wizards kicked him into the pit, and the newly-reanimated corpse fell into a pool of water with what sounded like a hundred other damned souls just like him.

Eyes wide, Narcissa turned and hurried back to Madam Rosier, who scolded her, calling her a stupid little idiot. Narcissa simply accepted this; her mind was locked in terror, and not even Madam Rosier's hateful tirades could distract her.

* * *

Narcissa was a master of learning secrets, and she had spent many years listening and waiting. Although Abraxas and Lucius kept the more nefarious of their activities under lock and key, Narcissa had still been able to pick up quite a lot.

Lord Voldemort's presence was increasing; each day, he brought more and more witches and wizards to his side. Not only that, he was gathering powerful magical artifacts, amassing not just an army, but an empire. It was still in the shadows for now, but soon enough, it would come to light.

And Narcissa dreaded it. Not because she was opposed to pureblood supremacy – by instinct, she held tight onto those ideals because they were really all she knew. It was just the viciousness of the act, the complete and total brutality that concerned her. If Bellatrix was really as wild about this Voldemort fellow as she seemed to be, that could only mean he was the worst sort of character. Narcissa knew that in her heart, as much as she hated to admit it.

Whatever this Dark Lord was planning, it would likely not bode well for the magical world.

* * *

That night, Narcissa came to bed with anxiety creasing the folds of her mind. In fact, she was so distracted by these thoughts that she quite forgot the agreement she'd made with Lucius until he climbed into bed with her.

After blowing out the candle next to the bed, Lucius lay on his back and then sighed. "Are you ready?" he asked, and suddenly, Narcissa had a new set of worries.

Still, they had both agreed, so she nodded. "Yes," she said softly.

Lucius hesitated and then moved over her like he had done the night before. Narcissa flinched a little, but she forced her body to relax some. Lucius would stop if she asked him to. She was confident of this now, and that helped. Besides, the thought of a precious little baby to care for was comforting. If this was what she had to do to get it, then so be it.

At least their child would be beautiful. Of that, Narcissa was certain.

Just like the night before, Lucius pushed up Narcissa's nightgown. Thankfully, he did not pull it all the way off her, instead bunching it around her stomach and leaving the rest of her covered. He also did not take off his night shirt, only reaching between them under the cover of the blankets and pushing aside both of their underwear. He looked almost as uncomfortable as Narcissa was, and she reminded herself to be considerate of him. He didn't want to do this, either. It was not his fault that this had happened.

This last thought caused Narcissa to finally relax as much as she was able. Bringing up a hand, she placed it very lightly on his arm, and he stilled. "It's alright," she murmured, keeping her tone unaffected. "Just do it."

Exhaling softly, Lucius spent a few seconds preparing himself, and then without a word, he pressed into her.

Narcissa felt her chest tighten; oxygen seemed to have left her, and for a moment, she regretted her decision. Lucius had gotten lube from somewhere, but it was still painful, and Narcissa winced. When she did, Lucius stopped and waited for her to adjust. It took a few minutes, but the next time he moved, it was slightly less uncomfortable.

And so it began, Lucius making short, impersonal thrusts, and Narcissa simply lying on her back and trying not to get in the way. Having such impersonal sex – particularly after being with Iain for her first time – was incredibly uncomfortable, but Narcissa just closed her eyes and tried to keep her body as relaxed as possible. Lucius was not being rough, but his motions were so clinical, so cold, that Narcissa wanted to cry anyway.

How he even managed to finish was beyond Narcissa. There had been no indication on his face or anywhere else that he was enjoying their union. Still, he did, giving only a small grunt as he climaxed and briefly closing his eyes. Narcissa remained where she was, and within a few seconds, Lucius moved away from her and fell onto his back.

Narcissa could not see him in the darkness, but somehow, she sensed his unease and knew it immediately for what it was: guilt.

Narcissa knew this because she felt it, too.

* * *

Narcissa and Lucius did not discuss a schedule, but they eventually came to an understanding. Sex happened every other night, and it would continue until a child was conceived. Each day, Madam Rosier had Narcissa take a Brisby Potion, and each time it showed negative, she gave Narcissa a smug look of satisfaction.

"Weak," she said of Narcissa. "Just like your whore mother."

"Lucius?" asked Narcissa that same night. He looked over at her. "When it comes time to dismiss Madam Rosier… May I be the one to do it?"

Lucius looked back at the bed canopy, his hands folded on his stomach. He was so stiff and formal, even in bed. "Why? How do you plan to do it?"

Narcissa curled her fingers into her palms and let her fingernails cut jagged little lines into her skin. "Violently," she answered.

Lucius raised a brow and then smirked at the canopy again. "Well, then. Permission granted."

* * *

Three months went by.

Narcissa still did not conceive, despite regular nights of uncomfortable sex with Lucius. Even so, the world went on around them, and Narcissa's watchful eyes caught all the details she thought were necessary to keep herself alive, one step ahead of whoever might try to trick her.

Madam Rosier still abused her on a daily basis, and Narcissa's features rarely – if ever – lifted in a smile. Miserable was too kind a word. Fortunately, Narcissa's bitterness helped stoke the fire in her heart that kept her alive. It was not hope that she lived on. It was the desire to exact revenge on those who had put her in this situation.

The only exception to this fury was the person most responsible for Narcissa's predicament – Bellatrix.

Narcissa could not bring herself to hate Bellatrix; her sister, Narcissa had decided, had only done what she truly thought was best for Narcissa. So each time Bellatrix visited the manor, Narcissa received her warmly and eagerly. It also helped that Bellatrix's very demeanor was enough to keep Madam Rosier away, and Narcissa was able to spend some alone time with her sister on the occasion.

"Look what I brought you, Cissy," said Bellatrix one day, holding up a heavy box of jewels. Narcissa gasped.

"Those are the Black family jewels! I thought they'd been destroyed or pawned."

"I saved them," said Bellatrix proudly, holding up a stunning necklace lined with pearls. It had a white-gold 'B' at its center, and Bellatrix stood and slipped it around Narcissa's neck. "Father would have sold them, the bloody stupid drunk. But I managed to get them away before he could. Now, as you and I are the only Black sisters left, it is up to us to share them."

Narcissa hesitated, her joy deflating. "Bella… about Andromeda – "

"She is dead to us," cut in Bellatrix swiftly, and her dark eyes flickered with a hollowness that Narcissa had never noticed before. "And if I ever see her again, I will kill her myself for betraying us in such an awful way." Stroking Narcissa's cheek, Bellatrix tilted her head and dropped her hand to Narcissa's, curling their fingers together. "It doesn't matter, though… Soon enough, they'll all be dead."

"Who?" asked Narcissa, though she knew the answer deep in her heart.

Bellatrix's lips curled. "The Mudbloods, of course."

Narcissa forced herself to smile a little and nod. "Yes," she murmured, even though Bellatrix was no longer listening. "That is good news."

* * *

And then one day, a miracle.

The Brisby Potion, which Narcissa had been taking faithfully every day for the last three and a half months, finally shifted color.

Narcissa was pregnant.

Gasping, Narcissa jumped to her feet, even while Madam Rosier snatched up the potion with a huff. "Well, look at that. You can do something right," she snipped, but Narcissa wasn't listening. Instead, she turned and raced out of the room, even while Madam Rosier called to her. She didn't care.

For the first time in ages, Narcissa was excited.

Lucius was just about to leave the house, as he was standing in the foyer. However, Narcissa managed to reach him first, and she jumped to him and grabbed his wrists with her hand. "Lucius!" she exclaimed, startling him. "I'm pregnant!"

Lucius's eyes widened. "Really?" he asked, before the news seemed to settle on him and he smiled. Narcissa's heart leaped, even though it was a small smile, and a rather calm reaction by anyone else's standards. "Excellent," he said with a nod. "I will inform my father immediately." He paused before adding rather awkwardly, "… Good work."

Narcissa beamed. "Thank you," she said, before adding more quietly, "I'm sorry it took me so long."

Lucius looked down at her hands still on his wrists, and after a moment, he patted her hand. "It is not your fault," he told her softly. "You were doing your part."

Narcissa blinked, caught off guard. She had not even realized how much of the blame she had accepted for it all until now. Lucius, though, was effortlessly acknowledging what his father would not – that their difficulties were not just Narcissa's doing, but a mismatch of all the delicate and necessary factors of conception.

Her heart warmed to him, but she only pulled back her hands and nodded again happily. "I'll see you tonight," she said, and Lucius nodded to her before departing.

* * *

Over the next two months, Narcissa felt a change in the air.

Together, she and Lucius made a public announcement of their pregnancy. The celebration was enormous, and Abraxas – for the first time ever – looked pleased when Narcissa entered the room. Madam Rosier was less than happy, mostly because the attention was now on Narcissa in a positive light, but that did not stop Narcissa from enjoying her position. Madam Rosier dare not antagonize her now that she was carrying a child, not when Abraxas deemed it so necessary.

Even Lucius seemed kinder, though not by much. Feeling braver and more confident by the day, Narcissa made an effort to talk more to her fellow ladies, and then to engage in conversation with Lucius at night. He rarely said anything substantial, and sometimes she wondered where he got off to all the time, but it didn't matter.

She was going to be a mother.

Bellatrix came by and offered her congratulations. Narcissa made sure to wear the 'B' necklace Bellatrix had given her, and Bellatrix seemed very pleased. Narcissa also formally met Bellatrix's husband for the first time, Corinne's older brother Rodolphus. He was absolutely terrifying, and she found herself grateful she had not been tied to him rather than Lucius.

"What do you want it to be?" Narcissa asked one night as she and Lucius climbed into bed. She petted her belly, which was still very small, but the bump was noticeable on Narcissa's tiny frame. She stroked it lovingly.

"What?" asked Lucius distractedly. He seemed to have been in a daze that whole day, and he finally looked over at her.

"The baby," said Narcissa, smiling widely as she held her stomach. "What do you want it to be? A boy or a girl?"

Lucius scoffed as he settled into bed and pulled a book into his lap. "A boy, of course."

Narcissa pursed her lips. I want a girl," she said, looking down at her tiny bump. "So I can teach her everything I know."

"The first one needs to be a boy," Lucius informed her, opening his book. "Then you can have all the girls you want." He started reading.

"What kind of name do you think we should – " Narcissa stopped when Lucius glared at her, and she huffed, sinking further into the bed and muttering to her belly, "Your father is more interested in his book than in your name. Let it be known!"

"Have you ever seen a silencing charm in action, Narcissa?" asked Lucius dryly, before looking over at her. "Because I can show you one right now."

Narcissa's response was to stick her tongue out at him, and Lucius rolled his eyes before turning back to his book. For the next half-hour, they both remained awake, with Lucius reading and Narcissa examining her belly, so proud of its bump. That was her baby in there, her flesh and blood.

Oh, she loved it so much already.

Strangely, this got Narcissa thinking about what she had witnessed in the dungeons below a few months before. She had not mentioned it to Lucius, but now that she was holding her growing belly in her arms, she felt a sudden fear. Those creatures were in the house with them. Those wizards – they were performing necromancy just a few feet below where her precious offspring would be living.

That, Narcissa decided, was unacceptable.

Shifting in the bed, Narcissa eyed Lucius before turning her indifferent look to her belly. "Lucius," she said dragging her fingertips over her belly. "I know about what's going on in the dungeons here. I saw it a few months ago."

This made Lucius pause, and he shifted to look at her. "You should not go down there, Narcissa. Especially not in your state."

"I don't make a habit of it," she said coolly. "I just think it's a little ridiculous that you let Lord Voldemort treat you like a common grunt is all."

This certainly caught Lucius's attention. "A common grunt? I can assure you, he does not. I would never allow such a thing."

"Oh?" said Narcissa, cocking her head in his direction. "Because it seems to me that your position in his circle would be far more valuable as a diplomat and liaison, a public face for his order. How are you supposed to befriend the new Minister of Magic when you've got such things going on in your own home?" She raised a brow. "You should be inviting the entire council over to the Manor, showing them your absolute best. You can't do that if you have a pit of Inferi crawling around in your dungeon, now can you?"

Lucius stared.

Narcissa went on casually, "It just seems to me that he is taking you for granted. If anyone should run the risk of being caught with such terrible abominations, it should be some idiot. You are far too important to be sacrificed. You have better tasks ahead of you." She shrugged. "It only makes sense that you of all people should be able to maintain some semblance of… plausible deniability. Don't you think?"

Lucius drummed his fingers on his book, looking annoyed. However, when he did not immediately argue with her, she knew she'd struck a nerve. Satisfied, Narcissa pulled up the covers and tucked her head into her fine pillow.

* * *

Just one week later, the dungeons were cleared out.

No one told Narcissa, but she saw enough tiny details around the house to know this for certain. So she focused her attention on her upcoming child instead, feeling very good about herself.

Now that Narcissa was pregnant, Madam Rosier had a more difficult time controlling her. Narcissa felt confident again, and she began to take control of the preparations. She set to work on designing the nursery, and when she mentioned her task to Lucius, he gave her an allowance to work with. After that, she was able to devote herself fully to decorating and shopping.

June arrived, and Narcissa's old schoolfriends graduated from Hogwarts. It seemed they'd left straight from the school to Narcissa's doorstep, they arrived so quickly.

As soon as they were across the threshold of the Manor, the girls shrieked and swarmed Narcissa. Not a single one of them had written to her once since she'd left school, and they'd hardly spoken during their sixth year, but now that she was Mrs. Malfoy, their dedication to Narcissa knew no bounds.

"Oh, how wonderful!" exclaimed Sybil.

"I've missed you so much! We are the best of friends, aren't we?" beamed Ellaria.

Narcissa plastered a smile on her face, not fooled even for a moment.

_Lying bitches._

* * *

A few weeks later, as the summer stretched into July, Narcissa climbed into bed next to Lucius and excitedly told him what she had done that day.

Lucius, to his credit, always listened to her talk, although he did not always respond and sometimes rolled his eyes. Occasionally, though, he did make a comment or carry on a conversation for a few minutes. Narcissa enjoyed this far more than she would have under any other circumstance.

At the very least, Lucius's reactions and words were always genuine.

"I like the name Randall," he told her quite randomly.

Narcissa looked up in surprise. "Randall?" she repeated, thinking on it. "It's interesting. Why do you like it?"

Lucius held up the book he'd been reading. "He's a powerful sorcerer in my book. I like him."

For some reason, Narcissa found this outrageously adorable. Lucius really enjoyed reading, and to her great surprise, he did not read philosophy or political science books, but instead outlandish novels. She had never looked at them for very long – Narcissa liked romances or academic reading – but she'd gathered they were all quite fantastical. It made Lucius seem more human to know he enjoyed them.

"We'll consider it," said Narcissa, smiling.

Lucius seemed satisfied with this, and he read for a little while longer while Narcissa dozed next to him. After a half-hour, he extinguished the light and settled down next to her. Narcissa let herself relax into sleep, still smiling.

_Soon_ , she thought,  _I will be holding my baby_.

And yet, as it had done so many times in her young life, fate came upon Narcissa that night and cruelly stripped her of her joy.

It started with a small pain. The jolt startled Narcissa awake, and she blinked against the darkness of the bedroom. Outside, the moon was high in the night sky, and there was not much she could see. She touched her stomach. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the pain came again, a cramp followed by a wave of nausea. Gasping quietly, Narcissa winced and pushed herself up on an elbow. Lucius slept on next to her. Frowning deeply, Narcissa tried to sit up, but as soon as she did, pain ripped through her and she fell back against the bed, crying out quietly.

_What is going on_ , she thought, and her heart began to race. The pain came again, and another wave of sickly heat washed over her. Whimpering, Narcissa shoved herself up and clutched her belly as the agony tore through her.

That was when her fingertips touched the moisture between her legs, and she dipped down her hand, feeling the liquid there. When she pulled up her hand, it was covered in blood.

Horror like she'd never felt in her life burned through her body like a wildfire.

"LUCIUS!" she screamed, reaching over and shaking him. He jerked awake.

"What – What is it?" Lucius grabbed his wand and illuminated it over Narcissa, who had pushed back to the blankets only to see a pool of dark blood soaking through her nightgown. Lucius's features morphed into shock.

"Get St. Mungo's!" sobbed Narcissa, already dissolving into hysteria. "NOW!"

Lucius leaped out of the bed and raced for the window, throwing it open and pointing his wand at the sky. " _AUXILIUM_!" he shouted, and a beacon appeared in the sky.

More pain crippled Narcissa, and she rolled onto her side on the bed, crying out as she felt her legs tremble and shake. "Lucius," she cried out, tears pouring down her face as she fisted her bloody nightgown. "What's happening, Lucius? What's happening?"

Even as the St. Mungo's employees arrived, rushing into the room and coming to their bed, Narcissa sobbed and asked the same question over and over.

"What is happening?  _What is happening to my baby?"_


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews! And yes, Narcissa is having quite a rough time. She has a long road ahead of her.

Also, if you are interested in reading some supplemental material for this story and  _The Sacred 28_ , feel free to check out my other one-shots, such as "Tea Time" and "The Lesson" (uploaded under  _Missing Moments_  on AO3 and as its own story on FF).

* * *

_By the time the healers arrived, it was too late._

_In truth, it was already too late by the time I'd awakened, soaked in blood, with my stomach twisted and my joints aching. I remember lying in bed, watching as Lucius talked quietly with the midwives, his face pale and gaunt. He did not look in my direction or speak to me, and after the healers looked me over, I was helped into the bathroom to be washed off and given clean clothes._

_By the time I returned to bed, aching in every conceivable manner, the house was quiet again. Sunrise peeked just outside the window. The night was mostly gone now, but my world had never been darker._

_Lucius did not return to bed that night. Instead, he took a seat in a chair near the window and gazed out expressionlessly at the sky._

_Abraxas came by, hobbling and furious. He yelled all the way up the corridor, and when he smashed his way into the room and looked upon me, lying there in the bed, he told me I was a shameful wretch who had killed her own child._

_And then he left. Soon after, Lucius got dressed and followed. He did not speak to me for a week._

* * *

Dinner remained an uncomfortable affair.

Narcissa did not care. No amount of food – had she even cared for it – would have made her feel whole. The emptiness inside her gaped open like an cavernous pit, black and limitless. Lucius had scarcely said a word to her in two weeks, and so Narcissa had spent her miserable recovery entirely on her own.

Her body had mostly healed. Her heart had not; her hormones, too, were still unbalanced, and she felt a constant wave of nausea that she was not sure would ever leave her. Then again, that might have been her own ill health. She must be defective, like Abraxas had proposed. Too skinny, too sickly.

She had let her child come to death because she was weak. That was all there was to it.

This should have inspired Narcissa to try and be healthier, to eat well and get fresh air, to take the best possible care of herself. And yet the grief was too great, too strong. It pulled at her shoulders, keeping them weighted and low. It held on to her chest, stealing away her breath. It made her grind her teeth and bunch her fingers and hold her joints so tautly that they ached. She spent her days wishing she was asleep and her nights yearning for daylight, because surely things would be better then.

It never was, though.

A few weeks after the miscarriage, Abraxas grew quite ill, and Madam Rosier was forced to spend her days tending to him. This left Narcissa with more free time, something she appreciated only distantly. Any capacity to enjoy herself was completely lost. The most she could hope for was mindlessness.

So on the days Madam Rosier was occupied, Narcissa wandered the manor, lost in her thoughts.

Then one day, as she came back to the quarters she shared with Lucius, she sat at the desk in their sitting room and spotted a piece of parchment sticking out of a drawer. The drawer was locked, but the tip of the paper was sticking out of the corner, and she was able to pull it out.

Tilting her head, Narcissa saw that it was a receipt for payment to St. Mungo's Hospital.

Narcissa's brows furrowed. At first, she assumed it was payment for her treatment during the pregnancy. However, this parchment was dated for well before that. Smoothing her fingers over the folds, she spotted the sum at the bottom and her eyes widened. It was an enormous amount. What was Lucius paying for that cost so much?

Folding the paper, Narcissa hid the receipt under her side of the mattress.

Over the next few days, she began paying more attention to Lucius, who hardly paid any attention to her at all. Before, she had always assumed that his absence from the house meant he was with Abraxas, doing their mysterious tasks. However, Abraxas was incapacitated, suffering in bed from old age and decades of bitter living. And yet Lucius would still disappear often, sometimes for entire afternoons.

So one day, Narcissa took a chance and slipped away from the house right after Lucius departed.

She could not follow him because of the nature of Apparition, but she made a guess and appeared near what looked to be an abandoned department store called Purge and Dowse, Ltd. Muggles walked the streets, bustling this way and that and ignoring the decrepit building. However, as Narcissa leaned out of the alley she'd appeared in and peered into the street, she saw Lucius in the crowd, crossing through droves of Muggles and walking right into the abandoned shop.

Narcissa followed him. She had not been to St. Mungo's Hospital in quite a few years, but she knew the way in. Once she entered the seemingly condemned building, she followed Lucius at a careful distance and let him pass through the magical barrier first. After counting to fifteen, she followed.

As soon as she appeared on the other side, Narcissa was nearly overwhelmed with the amount of noise. This was nothing new, though; St. Mungo's reception room was always quite noisy, and full of witches and wizards suffering from a variety of ailments, some more serious than others. Looking around cautiously, Narcissa spotted the end of Lucius's cloak as it whipped around a corner. He had bypassed the waiting room entirely.

When Narcissa hurried behind him, ignoring the crowds of people, she saw he had entered a wing called The Janus Thickey Ward. Curious, Narcissa continued to follow him, pausing and ducking out of sight when she saw him walk up to a desk with a witch sitting behind it. He took a clipboard and signed his name.

"Hello Mister Malfoy," said the witch with a smile, looking not at all surprised to see him.

"Hello Miss Helen," said Lucius a bit stiffly. He set aside the quill. "How is she today?"

The receptionist's smile flickered a little, and then she said sympathetically, "Much the same, Mister Malfoy."

Lucius nodded curtly and turned, heading through another pair of doors. Narcissa waited, and when the receptionist turned away to help someone else, Narcissa sneaked in behind him. It took a few minutes of searching, but Narcissa found him at last, drawn to the room by the sound of his voice. He was talking to someone.

"… took me a while to find it," he was saying from behind a curtain. Narcissa edged closer, keeping out of sight. "I know you prefer the coconut scent, but I'm afraid the shop said they stopped making it."

Narcissa's brows furrowed, and she finally braved a peek around the corner.

Lucius was sitting in a chair next to a hospital bed. And in that bed was Corinne Lestrange.

Narcissa's heart stopped. Corinne was  _alive?_ For a moment, her fear was enough to freeze her in her spot. Then the haze of terror cleared a little, and Narcissa observed Corinne where she lay. Lucius had put some lotion in his hands and was now holding Corinne's arm, smoothing the mixture over her skin, gently pressing it over her fingers. However, Corinne was completely limp, unmoving and unresponsive to Lucius even as he continued to talk.

"Father is ill again," Lucius told her. "I keep thinking he won't survive another bout of sickness, but then he always does. I believe Death itself is keeping him at bay, for fear he'll take over once he gets there."

Corinne's eyes were open, and she blinked occasionally. Still, as Narcissa looked more closely, she could see there was no indication of understanding in Corinne's face. She did not even seem to know Lucius was there. On her back and staring blankly up at the ceiling, Corinne was a motionless doll. Her hair was dry and poorly cared for, and her lips were slightly parted and cracked. Her normally dark skin was paler than ever before.

But perhaps most disturbing was the blank look in her eyes.

No, Narcissa thought as she calmed her racing heart, Corinne was not alive.

She may have been breathing, but she was not there. What Lucius was talking to, holding, applying lotion to – this was not Corinne. It was simply a husk that resembled her.

And yet Lucius carried on, sometimes falling quiet as he nitpicked over her pillow or her blankets, smoothing her hair away from her face and then moving to her other side so he could apply lotion to that hand as well. He worked the cream all the way up to her elbow, always gentle.

For a moment, Narcissa wondered if Lucius was delusional. Then he stopped what he was doing, looked up at Corinne's blank face, and sighed very deeply.

Narcissa's heart splintered, and she understood. Shifting, Lucius moved his hands down to Corinne's fingers and curled her hand in his palm. Bringing it up to his face, he bowed his head against his clasped hands, keeping Corinne's limp fingers in his. He said nothing.

Ducking her head, Narcissa made a motion to leave.

"What are you doing here, Narcissa?"

Her eyes wide, Narcissa turned slowly in her bed and – after a moment's hesitation – she shuffled into view. To her surprise, Lucius did not seem angry. Instead, he looked weary and forlorn, his eyes low and his hands still wrapped around Corinne's. He finally looked up at her, not making a move to stand.

"I'm sorry," murmured Narcissa. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"Well, you did," snapped Lucius, looking briefly irritated before it faded to weariness again. He looked back to Corinne and smoothed his fingers over her knuckles. A pause floated between them. "You think I'm a fool for this, don't you?"

Narcissa hesitated before stepping further into the room. "No," she told him softly. "I think it's very good of you to be here." Lucius only responded to this with a soft indignant huff, and Narcissa remained silent for a few minutes. Then she dared to ask, "Is she … Will she recover?"

Lucius's jaw tightened and he did not answer.

When she realized he did not plan to respond, Narcissa bowed her head. "I should… I should go," she said, turning to leave. Before she could go, though, Lucius called out her name.

"Narcissa?"

She stopped, turning to face him again.

Lucius rose from his spot and stepped around Corinne's bed. He looked briefly uncertain, a strange expression on his features. Then he asked, "Do you think you could … come with me to see her tomorrow?" He looked over at the motionless witch. "Corinne always took great pride in her appearance. She would hate to be seen this way. But I don't very well know how to …"

Narcissa understood immediately. "Of course, Lucius. I'll … get some things together as soon as I get back to the manor."

Lucius nodded stiffly. "Thank you."

So the following day, Lucius and Narcissa left the house together. Narcissa carried with her a rather large cosmetic bag, and when they arrived at the Ward, she let Lucius take the lead, coming into the room and greeting Corinne as if she could respond back. She did not, though, and to Narcissa, she looked exactly as she had the day before.

Still, Narcissa was determined to do her best. She swept into the room and greeted Corinne just as Lucius had, even smiling in the other witch's direction. "Hello Corinne," she said, before sitting next to the bed. "I thought we might do your nails today. How does that sound?"

Without waiting for the unanticipated response, Narcissa opened her bag and began digging around, pulling out her various instruments. Then, as Lucius sat in a chair on the other side and watched, Narcissa carefully and skillfully cleaned up Corinne's overgrown nails, buffing and polishing them and then painting them a deep red she had seen Corinne wear sometimes during school. It took the better part of an hour, but once she was done, Narcissa was very proud of her work.

"Look," she said, holding up Corinne's hand as if she might look. "Beautiful!"

After that, she gently replaced the hand on the bed and dug through her bag once more. This time, she pulled out some oils and waterless shampoo, setting to work on Corinne's hair. The older witch's hair was quite different from Narcissa's, but she had read some magazines and product reviews and figured out some viable options. By the end of another hour, Corinne's jet-black locks was once more soft, sleek, and clean.

"Now just for some lip balm," said Narcissa, smoothing it over Corinne's plump lips. "There, that'll feel better soon."

She looked to Lucius, and she could tell he was – in his own subtle way – pleased. Corinne certainly looked better, more like her striking self than before. When Lucius moved closer, he touched Corinne's freshly cared for hair and gave her a small smile.

For a moment, he seemed to forget Narcissa entirely. However, his eyes flickered up to her face a moment later, and he pulled away from Corinne. "Thank you," he said very quietly to Narcissa.

"Of course," whispered Narcissa.

They stayed for a little while longer, and then they left.

* * *

That night, as Lucius and Narcissa both crawled into bed and the lights from the candles faded away to darkness, Narcissa looked over at Lucius's half-hidden form and fought to read his expression by moonlight. He was still awake, lying on his back with his hands on his stomach.

"No," he said at last, his voice very soft. "The healers do not believe she will get any better."

Narcissa turned her head to look at him. In her mind's eye, she saw Corinne advancing on her and Iain on the Quidditch pitch, wand raised and eyes dancing with delight. She also recalled throwing out her hands in a blind fit of magic, the sheer power of which had hurled Corinne through a dozen layers of scaffolding.

Whatever had happened in that moment, it had not killed Corinne. It had done something much worse. Even so, she did not pity Corinne. Not in the slightest.

But then Narcissa thought of how it would feel to see Iain in Corinne's condition, and her heart tore anew. How would she feel if she had to look down on Iain's immobile body in a hospital bed? How could she stare into his blank eyes and know that he could not really see her? That he did not know she was there, holding his hand?

Narcissa's eyes filled with tears at the thought.

She may not have pitied Corinne, but for Lucius, her heart ached. "Where is the rest of her family?" asked Narcissa in a quiet whisper. "Do they visit her like you do?"

Lucius's features tightened. "They abandoned her mere weeks after the accident, when it became clear what her condition was like. If not for me, she would not even have medical care."

"That's awful," murmured Narcissa. She was surprised when Lucius spoke again.

"My greatest fear," he told her, his normally subdued tone wavering, "is that she is still in there, seeing and hearing everything, but trapped in her body."

That was one of the most horrifying thoughts Narcissa had ever heard. She shifted to face him, and hesitantly, she reached out a hand and brushed her fingers over his arm. "What do the healers say? Do they think that's possible?"

Lucius reached up with his free hand and moved it over his face. "No," he admitted. "They have done their scans of her. They say her brain activity is minimal. She has … her most basic functions, and nothing more." His fingers clenched tightly against his scalp. "All thanks to that  _fucking Mudblood_."

Narcissa faltered and then moved her fingers over his arm, squeezing lightly. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "If I can do anything else for her, just let me know."

She thought Lucius might not have heard her, but finally he said, "Thank you."

* * *

Over the next month, as Abraxas slowly recovered, Narcissa visited Corinne a few more times with Lucius. She realized during this time that he visited her nearly every day, sometimes for a few hours, and when he did, he would sit and talk to her as if she could hear him.

On the days Narcissa visited with him, she would touch up Corinne's fingernails or apply some make-up on her face, giving her a little bush or powder or lipstick. She also found some perfumes and scented towels, and she even spruced up the hospital room with a bit of décor.

This seemed to mean a great deal to Lucius, although he never articulated this to Narcissa. Instead, she learned from paying special attention to his small quirks. He spoke to her more often, and he sometimes even shielded her from Madam Rosier when he could.

Lucius was an enigmatic person. Charismatic though he could be, Narcissa soon learned this was the most disingenuous thing about him. Lucius was skilled in diplomacy, and he was articulate and wise beyond his years. However, Narcissa realized over the next few months that although Lucius kept a wide circle of friends and spent the vast majority of the day socializing, it wasn't what he enjoyed. In fact, Lucius seemed to dislike nearly everyone he knew.

It was only at the end of the day, when he was sitting in bed with a book or listening to the radio near the fireplace, that the creases in his young face relaxed, and he dared to smile that small smile of his. Lucius smiled many times during the day, but it was so noticeably fake that Narcissa could not believe she had once thought it real. Lucius's genuine expressions were much more subtle and rare.

She learned this one night when she asked him to tell her about his book, the one he'd mentioned before when he'd told her of his name choice. Dinner had been particularly brutal for both of them, now that Abraxas had returned to the table. He'd been in a foul temper, and he'd spent the better part of the meal berating Lucius about something inane.

Lucius's jaw had remained tight for the entire evening, and when they returned to their room for the night, he seemed ready to burst. She could see by the way he held his hands that he was in a quiet fury.

"Tell me about this character of yours," Narcissa implored, taking a seat next to him near the fireplace.

Lucius blinked out of his distracted anger. "What?" he snapped, but Narcissa did not let herself get deterred.

"The one you mentioned before… Randall. Tell me about him."

Lucius's fingers twitched. "Why do you care?"

Narcissa's lips quirked. "I just like stories."

She thought he might refuse her, but after a few minutes, Lucius settled himself in his chair with a small glass of scotch and picked up his book, which he held in his lap. He cleared his throat. "He is… a very powerful sorcerer. And he has many names. Randall is only one of them. He is also called The Man in Black." Lucius paused before admitting, almost sheepishly, "He is the villain of the series."

Narcissa giggled and leaned her chin on her hand. "Why does that not surprise me?"

Lucius looked back down at his book and shrugged. "I like him because he is powerful, and because he is always trying to foil those around him. He does what he likes. And I think many more people like him than they would care to admit." He raised a brow. "I am just saying what others will not."

"Is it a complex story?" she asked.

"Very," said Lucius. "And he is a complex character." Lucius frowned then, his brows furrowed as he dropped his eyes. "He is evil, yes. He enjoys chaos and destruction, and he seeks ultimate power above all else. And yet…" Narcissa watched, fascinated, as a slideshow of emotions played in subtle motions over Lucius's face. "There is more to him than that. He did not throw the world into chaos. He is merely playing the part that everyone expected of him."

Narcissa remained quiet for a few minutes. "What are you really thinking of, Lucius?" she asked in a whisper. She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it.

Lucius huffed quietly and tossed the book aside. "I know that my relationship with Corinne was a mystery to everyone. Even the others in our circle… They feared her far more than they ever loved her. No one believed that she loved me back, not really. They did not think her capable." He looked over at Narcissa, and for the first time ever in Narcissa's eyes, he looked like a teenager. "But she was, and she did."

Narcissa bit her lip. "Lucius…" The two locked gazes. "Do you really believe she would want to live this way? Locked away in a hospital bed without any understanding of what's going on around her?"

Lucius blinked, and Narcissa's heart clenched as she saw him blink back a tear. For a ridiculous moment, she thought –  _you can't cry. You're Lucius Malfoy._ But of course he could cry. He was human.

The tear never fell, but only because Lucius cleared his throat and shifted his gaze away. "I … No, I don't," he admitted very softly. He fell quiet before sighing and going on, "She's gone. I know she is… because she would have never tolerated you being in that room with her if she'd been aware."

Narcissa carefully kept her features still. After Lucius fell quiet again, she rose from her chair and moved over to Lucius, crouching in front of him and gently placing her hands on his knees. "Then I think you know what you need to do," she told him.

Lucius's expression was beyond heartbreaking, but there was an understanding there, too. A finality.

He nodded.

* * *

Two days later, Narcissa and Lucius entered the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital. After signing in at the front, they went to Corinne's room, and Narcissa hung back near the curtain as Lucius moved to sit next to Corinne.

For a while, he simply whispered to her. Narcissa did not attempt to eavesdrop. After nearly twenty minutes, Lucius moved up and kissed Corinne's motionless lips. She did not react.

"Good-bye," murmured Lucius. Narcissa could hear him, and she knew that now, he was crying. There was no disguising it. Pulling back, Lucius reached in his pocket and pulled out a small vial. With a thick swallow, he turned the liquid up at Corinne's cracked lips and poured it into her mouth.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then Corinne's body gave a little tremble, and her eyelids fluttered. Seconds later, they closed entirely.

Lucius dropped his head for a moment. Then, with surprising strength, he stood away from the bed and tucked the vial into his pocket. Narcissa waited for him near the door, and when he passed her, she touched a hand to his arm. To her surprise, Lucius reached up and put his hand over hers, giving it a brief squeeze.

Then he left the room.

Narcissa looked back to Corinne's lifeless body, and she took a few steps forward. Reaching out with curled fingers, she traced the line of Corinne's jaw tenderly. Then she sat at the edge of the bed and picked up Corinne's fingers, gently placing them in her lap.

For a moment, Narcissa could only look at the peaceful face of the witch in front of her. Then she leaned down and whispered in Corinne's ear.

"See you in hell, bitch."

When Narcissa pulled back, she had a smirk on her face. With that, Narcissa tossed aside the limp hand, adjusted the collar of her fine coat, and left.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews and favorites! Narcissa is definitely hardcore. But as we all know, she has a softer side, too…

* * *

**1975**

After Corinne's death, Narcissa noticed a distinct change in Lucius.

He mourned for a while; this, Narcissa knew, was unavoidable. As expected, Lucius's grief was discreet, but Narcissa had learned to watch him carefully. Lucius was a man who lived in the details, on the outskirts of other people's perceptions. Narcissa, on the other hand, was a very perceptive person, so when Lucius began spending more time at the Manor (and not at Corinne's bedside), she learned rather quickly how to sense his moods.

And a few weeks after their last visit to Corinne, Lucius came to bed and started reading again.

He had not picked up a book since that fateful day, but now he was once again taking solace and comfort when he had time, and Narcissa felt a sense of internal triumph. Lucius seemed lighter over the next few weeks, and he began speaking to her more. He even sometimes sought her out when they were both in the Manor, probably for the same reason Narcissa often looked for him as well.

They were the best company each other had. And perhaps they did not love each other, but they were, at the very least, friends. And this was something they both desperately needed.

Lucius even took Narcissa's earlier words to heart, and in March of 1975 – just a few months shy of his and Narcissa's two year anniversary – he invited the Minister for Magic and his wife over to the Manor for dinner.

For the first time ever, Narcissa saw Lucius Malfoy …  _nervous_.

"I invited him without Father's consent," he admitted to her the day before the dinner. "He was furious, of course, but he cannot deny the Minister now that he has accepted."

"It will be worth it," Narcissa reassured him, secretly thrilled by Lucius's initiative. She knew how terrifying Abraxas was, but perhaps no one was more intimately familiar with the old man's particular brand of punishment than Lucius. Had she not known an equally unloving father, Narcissa would have been aghast at just how cruel Abraxas really was. Short of striking Lucius, he was just as unloving and sadistic to his son as Cygnus had been to his daughters.

Bringing up a hand, Narcissa surprised them both by gently touching Lucius's cheeks. He paused in his nervous fussing with his robes and relaxed just a bit. "This is going to work," she told him confidently. "I just know it. If you really want to succeed in your position, you are going to need friends in the right places. That starts now. You are not just the son of Abraxas Malfoy." She met his grey eyes. "You are Lucius Malfoy."

At this, Lucius's lips quirked in one of his rare smiles.

Together, they journeyed into the formal dining room, where the Minister for Magic waited with his wife. They greeted each other merrily, and then Abraxas and Madam Rosier entered, taking places at the head of the table.

The dinner began.

Narcissa was optimistic at first, but it took very little time for old Abraxas to ruin the mood. He was the very definition of an abrasive, foul-mouthed old man, and he groused and ranted through the entire dinner.

The Minister for Magic, Harold Minchum, had been elected only a few months prior, but he was a well-known advocate for equality, and he was a half-blood, rather than a pureblood. As such, it made little sense that Abraxas Malfoy would spend the better part of the dinner grunting and raving, throwing around words like "blood traitor" and "Mudblood" nearly every sentence.

Each time he said something outrageous, Lucius's jaw tightened further next to Narcissa. The younger Malfoy could hardly get a word in past Abraxas, who did not seem to care that "Mudblood," while a common word for purebloods to use in private, was not exactly appropriate for dinner conversation.

A half-hour into the meal, Narcissa dared a glance at the Minister and his wife, and she cringed. He seemed more and more insulted with every passing moment, and Narcissa did not blame him.

"I hope you'll do something of a better job than your predecessor," snarled Abraxas to Minchum, as if he were not speaking to the leader of their country. "Jenkins was a weakling, letting those filthy Squibs do their protests. Better treatment for Squibs, pah! Most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." He grunted and stabbed at his food. "Those bloody Squibs ought to be grateful they weren't left out for the werewolves. That'd what I'd do, if I had one."

Narcissa looked at the ceiling, and Lucius actually pressed a hand over his face. The Minister and his wife were likewise embarrassed, and Minchum finally put his napkin in his plate with a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Mister Malfoy, I thank you for your hospitality, but I really must be – "

"Please," said Lucius a bit urgently, "Minister, stay, and we can retire to the sitting room."

"I'm sorry, young Lucius," said Minchum. "You were very kind to invite me, but I don't think this was a very good idea." Narcissa's eyes widened, and she looked to the Minister, feeling panic in her chest.

And that was when she spotted something.

It was a brooch on the Minister's robes. The pin was golden with wings, and it had three letters in the center: RAF. For a moment, Narcissa could not remember where she had seen such a brooch before, although she was sure she had.

Then she remembered. Iain had a pin just like that one.

She'd asked him about it once, and he'd told her the whole story: the World War, the battles, the attacks on London. His pa, Iain had told her, hadn't fought on the front lines as a soldier, but instead worked as an airplane mechanic. The pin had been his.

"Did wizards fight, too?" Narcissa had asked. Iain didn't know, so they'd looked it up. The Ministry of Magic's official word on the war, as they discovered, had been to "sit this one out." Still, the book Iain and Narcissa read had told them that some witches and wizards volunteered on their own, and had fought side-by-side with Muggles in the war.

And now, years after Narcissa had learned this, she was sitting across from a wizard wearing one of those brooches, just like Iain's father had gotten for his service.

"Minister!" piped up Narcissa quite suddenly, just as the Minister started to rise. He looked at her in surprise. Narcissa hadn't spoken the entire meal, but now that she had his attention, she continued with a polite smile, "Before you leave, I wanted to ask your opinion on a … project that Lucius and I are working on."

Everyone at the table shifted to stare at Narcissa, and Lucius quirked a brow but did not interrupt.

"Yes?" questioned the Minister, sitting once more and folding his hands in his lap.

Narcissa cleared her throat a little. "Well, as I'm sure you know, the Malfoy family is very invested in the future of British Magical society. And so we thought it might be prudent to start a charity." She paused, before going on, "A charity for witches and wizards who served in the World War. You know, the veterans."

The table was absolutely silent. Narcissa's heart pounded, but she went on.

"The Muggles have long since recognized their soldiers, of course, but there were actually many witches and wizards who served to keep England free of invaders. And yet, because of the Ministry's…  _understandable_  hesitation in joining the effort officially, these men and women were never given any sort of credit or appreciation. I think – well, Lucius and I – we believe it is time to do something for them. Don't you?"

The table seemed stunned. After a few seconds of silence, Abraxas let out a mocking bark of laughter, and Madam Rosier snickered maliciously. "That," snarled Abraxas, "is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, fool girl. Any wizard who fought alongside Muggles deserves whatever ill fate he got! A stupid fool's errand, it was!"

Narcissa's eyes flickered to the Minister, who was now purple in the face.

"Don't you agree, Minister?" sniffed Abraxas.

"No," said Minchum flatly, apparently having lost his last ounce of patience with the old wizard. "In fact, I feel obligated to inform you that as a young man, I was in fact one of those so-called 'fools' who joined the Muggles in their war."

Narcissa bit her lip to hide a grin, and Lucius's expression was positively priceless, as was Abraxas's.

Minchum glared at Abraxas. "Though my decision was mostly made for me after I witnessed my mother and brother die during the German attacks on London," he informed them. "After that, sitting on the sidelines was simply not an option."

He stood away from the table, looking directly at Abraxas. "I was proud, Mister Malfoy, to serve alongside those Muggle soldiers, and I would do it again if need be, because we saved our country." He looked back to Narcissa and Lucius, and his expression shifted to pleased approval. "However, young Mrs. Malfoy is quite right. Many of the wizards and witches who served in the war came home to lost jobs, broken families, and absolutely no help from the Ministry, who refused to acknowledge their service. It is high time we corrected that."

Lucius stood quickly, taking Narcissa's hand and walking her around the table to the Minister. "Let us escort you out, Minister," he said smoothly. "So we can further discuss our ideas with you."

"That would be wonderful, young Lucius, thank you."

With that, the two couples left the dining room, where Abraxas Malfoy and Madam Rosier still sat, astounded and furious. By the time the Minister and his wife reached the front door of the manor, they were noticeably happier and very pleased with Lucius and Narcissa both. It amused Narcissa greatly how well Lucius played into her "proposal." He knew next to nothing about the Muggle war, but he was clever, and that was enough for him to sound like he knew about the charity idea all along.

"Let me know if there is anything I can do to assist your efforts," said the Minister graciously. "I most heartily appreciate what you two are doing. You are welcome in my office at any time."

"We thank you," said Lucius pleasantly, giving them both a nod as he linked his arm with Narcissa's. "And please do forgive my father for his behavior. I assure you, the Malfoy household will be quite different under my supervision."

"I certainly hope so," said Minchum, before he and his wife departed.

As soon as the Minister and his wife were gone, Lucius shifted to give Narcissa the most incredulous look she had ever seen on his face. "How on earth did you know he would be so receptive to that idea?"

Narcissa shrugged coyly. "You have your secrets, and I have mine."

With that, Narcissa turned and left, laughing a little to herself.

* * *

That same night, Narcissa sat at her vanity and brushed her long pale hair. She wore only her night dress, and she'd already bathed and cleaned her face for the night. She felt thoroughly refreshed, and stronger than ever before.

Lucius slipped into the bedroom, and Narcissa paused mid-stroke to look over at him.

Merlin. That was certainly a look he'd never given her before.

Biting her lip a little to hide her smile, Narcissa turned back to her mirror and continued brushing her hair, quite casual. "Coming to bed already?" she asked lightly, bringing the brush through the very ends of her hair. "It's rather early for you."

Lucius paused before crossing the room, removing his shoes and loosening the more confining parts of his robes. Narcissa's eyes flickered in his direction, but she kept them carefully trained on the mirror as much as she could.

"Yes, well, it was either come in here with you, or listen to my father shout for no reason," commented Lucius, but Narcissa could hear the distraction in his voice. He was watching her. Shifting in her spot, Narcissa rose smoothly from her chair, her long hair loose and her collarbone exposed by the nightgown. She put down her brush and walked past him rather closer than necessary.

"Aren't you the romantic one, then?" she teased. She turned to move away after that, but Lucius grabbed her forearm. She felt the strength in his fingers, but also his extraordinary self-control. It was one of the unique things about Lucius. He was so self-contained.

For the first time ever, though, Narcissa was seeing a hint of what else was there.

"I thought," said Lucius rather softly, moving closer to her, "that we might start… trying again, for a child. If you're willing."

Narcissa felt her body grow hotter, and a curious thrill raced through her limbs. Lucius could pretend all he wanted that this was about conceiving, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. There was more than just necessity there; it was – Narcissa dared to believe – desire.

"I suppose we could do that," she murmured, reaching forward and touching his chest. Her fingers found the ties on the inner-part of his robes, and she loosened them. Within moments, Lucius had shifted his arms so they could pull off his robes, leaving him in only the trousers he wore underneath. Narcissa felt desire rush through her.

They had never done this before. Sex, yes, but it had never been like this. They had never undressed each other, never looked at one another as they did now. Narcissa took a step back towards the bed and – with only a moment to push back any thoughts that would stop her from continuing – she reached to the bottom of her nightdress and pulled it up, slowly exposing her body inch by inch.

Lucius never looked away; he scarcely blinked.

He took a few steps forward, and when he reached her, he brought up a hand to her neck and traced the side of it. They stood so close, the heats of their bodies seemed to fuse, and their foreheads brushed before Narcissa looked up to meet Lucius's gaze.

When his lips landed on hers, she felt a thrill from her heart to her toes.

For a few seconds, Narcissa's heart pinched with sadness. She could not help it; she thought of Iain, and how it had felt when he kissed her. She missed him so much it made her body and heart ache.

But this was nice, too, and Narcissa needed it.

Within moments, Lucius had Narcissa against the bed, his body hovering over her, his mouth delving into hers. Narcissa had spent many years dreaming of what it would be like to kiss Lucius Malfoy, and even as she felt guilt for it, she could not help but admit to herself that he lived up to her expectations and then some.

Reaching up, Narcissa curled her arms around his neck, letting him press fully against her so that his hardness pushed against her groin, making her gasp. Lucius caught Narcissa's lip briefly with his own, and then he turned his attention to the rest of her body, letting his smooth hands glide over every inch of her skin.

Narcissa had only been with one other man, and that had been Iain. It was hard for her not to compare them, at least a little. Making love to Iain had been wonderful in part because it had been so –  _fun_ , even though that was an odd way to put it. When Narcissa and Iain weren't in a rush (as sometimes they had been, for fear of getting caught), they had often laughed and giggled in each other's arms, tracing scars and alternating passionate embraces with teasing touches and tickling. Iain had often stopped what he was doing just to look at Narcissa's face, and when she'd asked him what on earth he was looking at, he had just smiled and kissed her skin.

Iain and Narcissa's lovemaking had been passionate, bursts of intimacy that never lacked for enthusiasm, just like Iain.

Lucius, on the other hand, was marvelous in an entirely different way.

When he actually tried – which apparently he had not been doing at all for the last two years, as Narcissa realized – he was wonderfully attentive. Each of his movements was slow and languid, but in an intense way, a manner that hinted again at his remarkable self-control. As Narcissa closed her eyes and arched her back, Lucius pushed both hands up her torso firmly before he reached around her and tugged her up into a sitting position. As soon as their faces were close again, he dropped his mouth to hers and pressed inside of her.

Narcissa gasped at the entirely new sensation, and after a few minutes, they found a steady rhythm, a slow grind that had Narcissa gripping his shoulders and dropping her parted lips to the center of his chest. She would not have been surprised to find she left marks from her fingernails on his back, because each time they moved against one another, the pressure grew more intense. She hoped their room was soundproof, because if not, anyone passing by in the corridor could hear the sounds she was making.

Lucius, though obviously enjoying himself, was not nearly as vocal as Narcissa, which she decided simply would not do. Sitting back a bit further, Narcissa rolled her hips harder, clenching her body.

This time, it was Lucius who grew vocal, and he reached up to hold her hip and press back against her warmth. Suddenly, Narcissa pulled herself up to Lucius and wrapped her arms tight around his torso, letting out a cry when she felt her body tense in orgasm. Lucius barely lasted a moment longer, climaxing with a muffled cry against Narcissa's chest.

For a few minutes, all they could do was hold each other and pant. Then Lucius shifted, moving forward and gently lowering Narcissa back against the bed. Then he laid down next to her, only absently pulling the sheets over them. Neither of them seemed to know what to do or say, but finally Narcissa shifted up just a bit and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Lucius's cheek.

"Good night," she whispered, smiling a small smile.

Lucius returned it. "Good night."

* * *

After that, Lucius paid quite a bit of attention to Narcissa. Unfortunately, they were both still under the rule of Abraxas and Madam Rosier, so their time together was limited, as was their freedom. Lucius did his best to maintain profitable relationships with those around him, but he could not directly defy his father, not again, so he had to be careful.

Madam Rosier was worse than ever before. Each time she saw Narcissa begin to grow more confident, she made sure to stamp it down in whatever way she could. Narcissa was not allowed to visit friends on her own, or even to leave the Manor without Madam Rosier's approval. She ate what the other witch told her to eat, and she wore what the other witch told her to wear.

It was awful, and not even Lucius could do anything about it.

Some part of Narcissa wondered if her treatment at the hands of Madam Rosier was her punishment for betraying Iain. She thought of him constantly, and she wrote in her journal when she could, the one he had gifted her for Christmas. In it, she poured out her feelings and her concerns, her miseries and her woes. But that sort of talk was only safe there. Not even Lucius could know everything.

Despite Narcissa and Lucius's newly elevated relationship, several months went by without Narcissa conceiving.

Finally, in the spring of 1976, Narcissa got the result she was waiting for.

She was pregnant again.

**1976**

"I swear to you," said Narcissa when she gave Lucius the joyous news, "I will do everything I can to be safe. I will eat well, and I will sleep, and I will do whatever the midwife tells me."

"I know you will," said Lucius with his small smile. "And soon you will have a little child to care for."

This made Narcissa beam with happiness, and over the next few months, she did exactly as she promised. She saw the midwife on a regular basis, and she was very careful about what activities she took part in. She and Lucius worked together to choose a nursery theme, and they again talked of names and colors and schools.

"I'd rather my child go to Durmstrang, if I'm being honest," Lucius told her one night.

Narcissa put a hand over her heart, aghast. "Durmstrang? But that's so far away!"

"It's a better school," said Lucius. "That is, for now. If things go the way we want it, perhaps Hogwarts will improve, and we won't have to send our child to a Mudblood-infested hole."

Narcissa made a face. "It's still bloody far," she muttered, but in truth, she was now distracted by Lucius's words.  _If things go the way we want._

It was true. The war was heating up.

Each day, the  _Daily Prophet_  reported more news stories on disappearances and strange events. Just the week before, a Muggleborn couple in Ireland had vanished out of thin air, and the Aurors on the scene had reported evidence of an attack.

Narcissa, up until this point, had been rather blissfully unaware of the activities of Lord Voldemort and his followers. Lucius, she later learned, had informed Voldemort that Narcissa's delicate condition meant she could not – unfortunately – be a full Death Eater, as Bellatrix was.

"She does not need to take the mark," Lucius had said to him. "Her purpose is much more superficial than that."

Narcissa was too grateful for his interference to be insulted at his implication. If Lord Voldemort felt she was too weak and frail to do any of his dirty work, so be it. She would prefer to remain blind to the activities.

Still, the public was really beginning to take notice. This worried Narcissa.

The truth was, she had long ago assumed that Lord Voldemort would fail in his endeavors. After all, if Gellert Grindelwald had not been able to do it, why would this wizard be able to? Surely he was not more powerful than the wizard who had stood toe-to-toe with Albus Dumbledore.

However, she soon began to witness things that challenged her assumptions. Voldemort was recruiting the most powerful wizards and wizards all over the world, and he was demonstrating his great power in doing so. He had witches and wizards under the Imperius curse right in the Ministry, and The  _Prophet_  was now reporting daily attacks on Muggle families, and there were many who said the attacks were done by witches and wizards. His influence was insurmountable. There was even rumor going around that werewolves and other dark creatures were being intentionally released in Muggle neighborhoods. Narcissa could not imagine a more savage thing to do to unsuspecting families.

It was not at though Narcissa's pureblood ideals did not persist in her nature. She still whole-heartedly believed in the validity of pure-blood over half-blood or Muggleborn. For whatever reason, that was an idea that she could not shake entirely, not that she tried very hard.

But Iain – Iain was separate from all that. He was an entirely different entity, one that she loved. And she worried for him. However, Narcissa also imagined that because Iain was far away from her, he was safe.

Then one day, late in her third month of pregnancy, Lucius came to her. "Darling," he said, and Narcissa looked up, trying to remember if he had ever called her that before. "The Dark Lord has requested us all for an event this evening."

Narcissa balked, but she nodded and did as she was told.

That night, Lucius, Narcissa, Madam Rosier, and Abraxas all left the Malfoy Manor in a carriage. A short while later, they arrived at the house of Augustus Rookwood, a foreboding home set against a dark tree line far away from the cities. Narcissa kept silent as the four passengers left their carriage and walked up the narrow path to the front door. When Narcissa dared to glance up, she saw most of the windows were pitch-black. Once inside, the Malfoys were enveloped by shadows, and Narcissa felt a chill run down her spine.

She took Lucius's hand, and he let her hold it as they continued down the corridor.

Rather than continuing through the house, however, they soon found themselves outside once more, this time behind the house. As soon as they stepped on to the grass, Narcissa's heart stopped.

A massive fire burned in the center of an open space of grass, carefully contained by the wizards around it. They moved about like haunts, wearing dark robes and the skeletal masks Narcissa had seen only once before. The night was otherwise dark, but the flames climbed nearly as high as the roof of the house. The effect was a burning red-orange glow that seeped over the grass, giving it a pulse that crept into Narcissa's body and made her skin crawl.

Standing near the oppressive heat of the fire was Lord Voldemort. At his side was Bellatrix, looking more pleased than ever, her dark eyes positively glittering. When Lord Voldemort gestured to Lucius, he was forced to let go of Narcissa's hand and advance forward.

"Ah, young Lucius," said the Dark Lord, touching one of his strange hand's to Lucius's shoulder. "It is fitting that you have brought your growing family here to take part in this momentous occasion."

"We are pleased to be here, my lord," said Lucius with a gracious nod of his head.

The Dark Lord turned to look at Narcissa, who still stood several feet away. When he extended a hand to her, she knew she had no choice but to move forward. To her shock, the Dark Lord placed a hand on the small bump under her robes, where her child rested.

"A new generation," said the dark wizard with a strange smile. "A better one."

Narcissa only nod and feign a smile, and thankfully, the Dark Lord took his hand away and left her. Unfortunately, Narcissa's relief was short-lived.

Moments later, the "momentous occasion" began in earnest.

As Narcissa watched, masked Death Eaters brought out five struggling figures, all with bags over their heads. Before their faces were even revealed, Narcissa could see that three of them were children. She felt a painful jolt of fear.

"This disgusting pack of imposters," called out Lord Voldemort, drawing everyone's attention, "will tonight answer for their impertinence! Their lies! Their traitorous blood and theft of real magic!"

The hoods were ripped off, and Narcissa flinched. The wizard, she knew immediately, was Nobby Leach, former Minister for Magic. He had been the first Muggle-born ever elected to the position, and Abraxas Malfoy had been only one of several senior Ministry officials who had resigned over his appointment.

"This Mudblood," shouted Lord Voldemort, "had the audacity – the arrogance – the unparalleled  _foolishness_  – to suppose that he was your equal! He sought a position far above his ability and his birthright! No more will we tolerate this short of impurity! No more will we allow his kind to control our government!"

People cheered all around. Lucius looked pleased; he was not paying attention to Narcissa.

"And for that," continued the Dark Lord, "he and his entire family will pay!"

The other hoods were pulled off, revealing Leach's Muggle-born wife, Mary, and their three children, the youngest of which could have been no more than eight years old. They were all crying.

Narcissa felt so ill, she was afraid she might faint.

"Tonight, we begin the purge of our government, to rid it of these Mudbloods and their offspring! Tonight, we begin our purification!"

She could practically hear Iain's voice in her head.  _Help them. Narcissa, you're better than this. Please, do something!_

Instead, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and closed her eyes. The screams of the family as they were fed to the fire seemed to go on forever. She could not look, but neither could she banish their anguished calls of help, the smells of their burning flesh.

That night seemed to go on for years. When at last it came to an end, Lucius had to help Narcissa back into the carriage. She could not stand.

Abraxas scoffed. "Weak," he grunted.

But Narcissa could not bring herself to care. That night, she lay in the bed she shared with Lucius and sobbed, the cries wracking her entire body. "Narcissa," urged Lucius frantically, holding her. "Please, stop! You know your condition is sensitive." He grappled for something to say, but in the end, all he could manage was, "What does it matter? They were just Mudbloods."

Lucius's efforts were for naught. Two days later, Narcissa miscarried.

When the healers tried to take away her bloody robes, Narcissa gripped them tight. "No!" she shouted, hugging them to her body and curling up in her bed. Lucius, frustrated and distressed, let out an angry growl.

"For the love of Merlin, Narcissa. Why do you want to keep those filthy robes?"

Narcissa's pillows were wet with tears. "Because they're all I have of my baby," she whispered, before dissolving into tears again. Lucius stopped his angry pacing, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her, shoulders hunched, expression stricken.

Then, finally, he extinguished all the light in the room and lowered himself to the bed behind her. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, letting her cry.

"I'm sorry," sobbed Narcissa. "I didn't protect our baby."

She was surprised when Lucius spoke. "It was my fault," he murmured against the back of her neck. "I knew you were sensitive. I should have never allowed you to go to Rookwood's home." His grip on her tightened. "I was the one who failed to protect you both."

Narcissa closed her eyes tight.

Throughout the rest of the night, Narcissa was plagued by sounds and images. In the midst of fitful attempts at sleep, Narcissa heard a baby's cry. She heard voices calling for help, and then they transitioned into the happy giggle of an infant. She saw, in her mind's eye, Nobby Leach and his wife taking one last look at their children.

She also saw in her mind's eye her own child, what she imagined it might be like. All the while, she feared she would never know.

Some time in the early hours of the morning, while Lucius slept with his arms still around her, Narcissa opened her eyes and stared at the wall.

Lord Voldemort was never going to stop, she realized. So long as Lord Voldemort lived, no Muggleborn was safe.

And perhaps this was something that Narcissa could have lived with, if not for Iain – if not for the knowledge that she would never be able to sleep at night, to get healthy and care for her child, while she feared for his life.

* * *

Six weeks later, in November 1976, Lucius informed Narcissa he would be going out of the country.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely, touching a gentle hand to her face. "I will be gone for five days to St. Petersburg with Father to meet up with Igor Karkaroff."

Narcissa managed a small smile. "I will miss you," she told him truthfully. "But I understand why you must go." Curling into his arms, Narcissa laid her cheek against his chest. "Be safe."

"I will," he told her. "Do not let Madam Rosier make you melancholy. We will be able to deal with her soon enough."

Narcissa nodded, and Lucius swept a thumb over her cheekbone, just under the growing circles of darkness under her eyes. Narcissa followed him to the door later that same day, and she watched as Lucius departed with Abraxas.

Madam Rosier stood at the door, obviously ready to have complete control over Narcissa for the next week. However, it only took a half-hour for the tonic Narcissa had introduced to her tea to take effect.

It was very possible that Madam Rosier hit her head when she collapsed in the hallway, but Narcissa just stepped over her and continued on. She would deal with the consequences of this later. The woman was not dead, after all; that Narcissa could not do, not with Abraxas still around. Madam Rosier was sadly only unconscious.

The first thing Narcissa with her brief freedom did was pay a visit to an old friend.

As soon as the door to the stylish little home was opened, Narcissa found herself wrapped in a strong pair of arms. "Narcissa!" cried out Thaddeus, holding her off her feet as she laughed in surprise. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Narcissa giggled and patted his arm as he lowered her back down to the ground. "Oh, look at you!" she said, touching his jaw. "You're so grown!" It was true. Thaddeus, now aged twenty-one, had a more mature look about him than Narcissa remembered.

"Thanks," he grinned. "Come in, come in." Thaddeus stepped aside and let Narcissa in just as another fellow came in from the back. The newcomer was a handsome wizard with a thin build and jet-black hair. As soon as he saw Narcissa, he smiled in a friendly way.

"Narcissa," said Thaddeus, beaming, "this is Patrick. Patrick, this is my old friend Narcissa."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Patrick, shaking her hand. "I think I remember you from school. I was two years ahead of you both in Ravenclaw."

"How lovely," said Narcissa, smiling. She didn't remember him, but then again, she hadn't spoken to many people in school outside of Slytherin. "Thank you for having me here. I only came for a visit, I won't be long."

"Take as much time as you need," said Patrick, before looking to Thaddeus. "I was actually planning on going to the market. I thought you two might need some time to catch up."

"That'd be great, love," replied Thaddeus with a smile. "Don't forget to pick up the – "

"Yeah, yeah, I know," said Patrick with a laugh. "Litchfield spices, black not brown. I got it."

Thaddeus rolled his eyes as Patrick kissed his cheek, nodded to Narcissa amicably, and then left, closing the front door behind him. Narcissa, almost forgetting her whole purpose for coming over, instantly grabbed Thaddeus's hands and squeezed them gleefully.

"Oh, he is just precious!"

Thaddeus flushed scarlet. "He is, isn't he? We've been together for a year and a half now." Thaddeus made them both some tea and sat with Narcissa on his couch. The home Narcissa had found him in was a small cottage-style house in a wizarding neighborhood near Lincoln. Narcissa immediately liked it; the home was cozy and well-furnished, with comfy beige chairs and many garden-style wicker pieces all around. There were plentiful plants, too, maybe more than had been in the Hufflepuff Common Room.

The couple also had a little dog named Henry. "He's a cock," said Thaddeus with an eyeroll. "Don't even bother with him. Patrick bloody spoils him."

Narcissa giggled. "So, does your family know? About Patrick?"

Thaddeus reclined on his couch. "They found out before Patrick," he said, wincing. "It's for the best, though. My mum's reaction was to burst into tears and tell me I'm a shameful wretch, and my father – oh, what did he do? – oh yes, he threatened to kill me if I didn't leave the house." Thaddeus shrugged. "So I said – goodbye! And now I'm far better off."

Narcissa puckered her lips. "Positively shameful of them."

"Yes, well, I'm glad not to be involved with them anymore," admitted Thaddeus, before his voice dropped. "Especially with everything that's going on."

Narcissa sighed softly. "It's worse than you know, Thaddeus."

At this, Thaddeus's expression grew more serious, and he straightened in his spot to lean his elbows on his knees. "Are you in danger?"

"No," Narcissa told him, sighing. "Not so far as I know anyway. It's just – " she paused, before taking a deep breath. "Thaddeus, I need to know where he is."

Thaddeus's eyes flickered with understanding. He did not need to ask who she meant.

"Hm," he said, clasping his hands near his chin as he thought. "I don't know myself, but I can think of a few people who might, old mates from school."

"Please," pleaded Narcissa, moving closer. "It will be too dangerous for me to ask questions myself. If Lucius ever discovers his whereabouts, there will be no stopping him. But I must know."

Thaddeus nodded. "I'll find out." He patted her hand. "Honestly, though, I don't know how much longer Patrick and I will be around. With things getting as they are, I mean. Patrick's a half-blood, and I'm pure-blooded of course, but it seems like it'll just be a matter of time before those lunatics come knocking at our door, trying to get us to join them."

"Your brother and sister are already a part of it," admitted Narcissa. "You're right to be concerned."

Thaddeus scowled. "Bloody psychos. Why can't they just let people live in peace?"

"If you do plan to leave," said Narcissa, "you need to do it soon. Things are only going to get worse from here on out."

Thaddeus nodded. "We think we might go to Australia. Patrick has some family there, and we've got some gold saved. I just hate the thought of abandoning England."

Narcissa bit her lip. "It may be wisest. Especially for you two. Things might be better for you where you're going."

"I hope so," he said with a small smile.

A little while later, Patrick came back and Narcissa was able to sit and talk with him for a while. She learned he was a herbologist – which explained all the plants – and, surprise surprise, he was very clever and spent most of his spare time reading.  _Ravenclaws_ , she thought with a mental eyeroll. Honestly.

"What do you do?" asked Narcissa to Thaddeus.

He smirked. "Me? I'm a house-husband. My main goal each day is to keep the house from burning down and hosting the best Quidditch-watching parties there ever was." He shifted to glare at Henry the dog. "Also I take care of that thing."

"Hardly," said Patrick, giving him a dirty look before picking up the dog and curling it in his arms as he walked away, talking baby-talk to it. Thaddeus made a very loud noise of disapproval, something like a very long and audible scowl. Despite her morose thoughts, Narcissa couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

A day and a half later, Thaddeus sent Narcissa a quick note by owl. It had only an address.

Her heart pounding, Narcissa gathered up her things, pulled on her cloak, and left the Malfoy Manor alone. By the time she arrived on the street she'd been looking for, it had started to rain. The sun had set, and winter pervaded the area, leaving behind cold air made all the more miserable by the rain. It seemed the air was just warm enough to prevent snow, but not enough to make it tolerable. Clutching her cloak to her shoulders, Narcissa sloshed through the streets, eyes turned up to the row of townhouses nearby.

The street was rather desolate, and it had not aged well. Many of the homes appeared abandoned or empty, and as Narcissa continued her walk, she found that the entire neighborhood was rather impoverished.

Finally, she came to the townhouse she had been looking for. The number on the door read 221.

Narcissa glanced up and down the street, grappling for her scant courage as she did so. When at last she felt brave enough, Narcissa tugged further on her damp hood and climbed up the few steps to the front door. With a trembling hand, Narcissa rapped on the door and waited.

A voice called from within. "One minute!"

Narcissa lowered her head, letting her hood hide her face. She clenched her eyes closed and fought to breathe.

Only a few seconds passed, but it felt like an hour. Then, quite suddenly, the door opened. Narcissa could see only his shoes. "Can I help you?" asked the voice, barely audible over the pouring rain. Narcissa summoned the last of her courage and lifted her head.

Iain Stewart stared at her in shock. "… Narcissa?" Lightning split through the sky behind her.

"May I come in?" she asked, her words quiet and stiff. Iain seemed too surprised to move for a moment, but finally he nodded, stepping back hurriedly and beckoning her inside. Narcissa moved across the threshold and reached up shakily, pushing back her sodden cloak hood.

As Iain closed the door behind her, Narcissa's eyes scanned the home. It was rather more well-cared for than she had imagined from the outside. The interior was definitely old, and the furniture was mismatched, with thin carpet underneath and a few cracks in the floor. Still, it seemed comfortable and clean. There were several loving touches of home throughout: portraits on the mantle, a vase of flowers on a low table, hand-stitched pillows on the couch.

Iain moved slowly to stand in front of Narcissa. His expression was strangely blank. "What are you doing here?" he asked, and now that his shock had left him, Narcissa saw what she had expected – a hint of hostility. Still, the next thing he asked was, "Are you alright?"

Narcissa kept her features as impassive as she could. "I'm fine," she said softly.

For a long moment, nothing was said. Narcissa had planned all her words so carefully. She had even timed herself. She could be in and out of this place in a matter of five minutes, perhaps less. But now that she was here, looking at Iain for the first time in three years, she felt frozen.

Merlin, he looked so … well, handsome, still, but thin, thinner than she remembered. He was wearing Muggle clothes, even though he lived in a wizarding neighborhood, and she wondered if he had been eating well. There was a weariness to his features she hadn't expected. He looked very tired. It appeared he hadn't shaved in a week or two, either. The stubble on his face was redder than the rest of his dark auburn hair.

"My wife will be back in a little while," Iain said at last, looking directly at Narcissa's face. "She's out buying groceries."

Narcissa blinked, focusing all of her energy on carefully encasing her heart. She could not let herself react to this knowledge. After all, she too was married.

"I won't be long," she said, finally allowing herself to fall back on the words she had rehearsed. "I only came here to tell you something." She locked gazes with him. "Iain, you must leave England."

As she expected, Iain's brows furrowed. "What?" he questioned. "Why would I do that?"

"And you can't go back to Scotland, either," Narcissa informed him. "You must get away from Great Britain entirely. Soon, before it is too late."

"Narcissa, you're talking crazy," said Iain, folding his arms. "Why should I leave?"

"Haven't you been reading the papers, Iain?" asked Narcissa, fighting the urge to touch his arm. "Muggleborns are being attacked on a daily basis."

Predictably, Iain scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning to walk a few feet away into the kitchen, where he made himself a cup of coffee. "I've seen the newspaper, Narcissa. It's all sensationalist garbage. They're playing it up for headlines."

"No, they aren't!" continued Narcissa, frustrated when he turned his back on her. "It's true. And it's only going to get worse. You must go! You must get out of here while you can."

Iain turned to face her again. "I'm not going to give in to the hysteria, Narcissa. It'll die down soon enough."

Narcissa curled her fingers tightly. "Iain, you don't understand. There is a dark wizard behind all this, a wizard the likes of which the world has never seen before." She stepped closer, and Iain's attention became more rapt. She could feel his intense gaze on her, and she knew it was not entirely devoted to her plea. She had to make him focus, though. This was important.

"Listen to me," said Narcissa heatedly. "The attacks on the Muggleborns and Muggles are being led by a dark wizard who calls himself Lord Voldemort. I'm not sure exactly where he came from, but he is a follower of the Dark Arts and a fanatical pure-blood supremacist. He is using his influence and power to recruit scores of followers, witches and wizards he calls Death Eaters."

Iain raised a brow, unimpressed. "Death Eaters?" he repeated skeptically.

"Yes," hissed Narcissa. "And he is very, very powerful." She paused before going on meaningfully, "More powerful than Grindelwald."

This caught Iain's attention. "Don't be ridiculous. More powerful than  _Grindelwald_?"

"Much more," Narcissa told him, trembling. "Iain, if you do not believe me about how malicious he truly is, then you should know that… " She swallowed. "Bellatrix is his right hand."

The color faded from Iain's face.

"She is practically in love with him," Narcissa told Iain adamantly. "If that does not tell you what you need to know, then nothing will." She stepped closer to Iain, who had set aside his coffee. "Iain, he is already in the Ministry, and soon he will be in the school. He grows his army by the day, and by now, he has taken in werewolves and giants and all other manner of dark creatures. He is responsible for every single Muggleborn attack for the last three years, and he is only growing stronger by the minute."

Iain fell silent, expression growing thoughtful. After a moment, he met Narcissa's eyes. The look there struck Narcissa to her core, as did his next words, which were low and quiet.

"How deep into this are you, Narcissa?"

She lowered her eyes. This time, it was Iain who came close. Her heart ached.

"Or better yet," continued Iain gruffly, "how deep into this is Lucius Malfoy?"

Narcissa closed her eyes. A tear pressed through and spilled down her cheek. "Very," she whispered at last. Iain stepped away, and Narcissa opened her eyes to see him turn away from her for a moment, his hand over his face. He dropped it and settled both hands on his hips.

"What would they do if they knew you were here right now?" he asked.

Narcissa kept her eyes low. "I would be killed," she admitted tonelessly.

When she looked up at Iain's face again, she nearly wept. It was the face she remembered, the one of concern and affection. For a moment, she thought he might say something – anything – to let her know he still cared.

But he was interrupted by a sharp cry from the living room.

They both looked through the doorway, and Iain glanced at Narcissa just once before crossing over into the next room. There, Narcissa watched as he bent over a small cradle she had not noticed before.

From it, he pulled a crying baby, which he gently jostled in his arms. "There, there," said Iain, before picking up a pacifier and placing it in the baby's mouth. "You just dropped it, tha's all." Turning slowly, Iain stepped up to Narcissa again and shifted his arms, looking uncertain even as he smiled a little.

"This is Alisdair," he said. "We just call him Ali."

Narcissa stared hard. "He's beautiful," she said after a very long pause. Everything hurt.

Iain scanned her face before reaching for a blanket, which he spread out on the old carpet. He placed baby Ali on the blanket, and the infant squirmed a little before becoming preoccupied with a plastic baby toy fisted in his chubby little hand. Iain straightened, giving the little boy an adoring smile before he looked back at Narcissa.

She was still staring at Ali. It took Iain clearing his throat for her to look up.

"Narcissa," he said after a few moments of silence. He looked weary again. "We can't just pick up and leave. I mean, I work two jobs just so Rebecca can stay at home with Ali. We are barely making it as it is, and – " He stopped when Narcissa reached under her cloak and pulled out a bag, which she extended to him expressionlessly. Brows furrowed, Iain accepted the bag. "What is this?"

"That," said Narcissa, blinking rapidly, "is 30,000 galleons."

Iain almost dropped the bag. " _30,000 galleons_?" he repeated in disbelief. "Narcissa, that's… twice what I make in a year." He swallowed. "I – I can't accept this."

"Yes, you can," said Narcissa sharply. "Take it and get your family out of here. Go as far away as you can."

Iain bit his lip. "Narcissa…"

Her resolve threatened to crumble. "Please," whispered Narcissa, and her voice cracked.

This caused Iain to look at her face, and that expression was back. Once more, Narcissa was looking at the sixteen-year-old boy who had held her hand in the rain, the one who had drawn her out to the middle of the Black Lake so she could see the stars, the one who had held her in his arms and apologized for not being a pure-blood, for not being wealthy, for not being what she thought she needed.

Narcissa trembled in her spot, but she kept her arms glued firmly to her sides. She would not reach for him.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he asked in a murmur, eyes sad.

Narcissa swallowed tightly. "I would not be here if I weren't."

Iain lowered his eyes, and after a moment, he shifted and looked back at the small baby boy wiggling on the blanket, toy in hand. Narcissa could practically see his thoughts, knew him well enough to know how he felt in that moment.

"Alright," he said quietly. "We'll go."

Narcissa barely allowed herself a breath of relief. "Leave as quickly as you can. Tell no one."

Iain set the gold aside and nodded slowly. "We will." A pause. "Thank you." The two looked at one another for a few seconds longer, and then Narcissa turned, pulling up her cloak hood again. She headed to the door.

"Narcissa."

She stopped at the door, her hand already on the knob. Hesitantly, she turned to face Iain once more. The wizard shifted in his spot, frowning a little. His eyes were shining, she saw.

"Does he treat you well?"

Narcissa barely quelled the hysterical bubble in her chest. "Like a queen," she whispered with a small teary smile.

After that, she took one last look at Iain and then turned, disappearing out of the door and back into the stormy night.

* * *

Two days later, on the first of December 1976, Narcissa returned to the townhouse.

It was empty.

On the door, however, was a folded note. When Narcissa walked up the steps and touched it, she saw it had an 'N' written on the front.

Pulling it down, Narcissa opened it to see two words.  _Thank you._ Below that, taped to the paper, was a candy cane. Putting a hand to her face, Narcissa folded the letter and brought it to her chest. After that, Narcissa turned and left with the letter clutched in her hands.

Lucius returned home a few days later.

Narcissa was in their room waiting for him. When he entered, he gave her one of his rare smiles, and Narcissa returned it. He sat down, and she surprised him by moving over and perching herself in his lap. After a moment, he encircled her in his arms.

"Missed me, then?" he asked slyly.

"I did, yes," admitted Narcissa softly.

Lucius's eyes scanned her, and he touched her bare collarbone. "You're not wearing the necklace Bellatrix gave you," he noticed. Narcissa's lips quirked.

"I sold all the Black family jewels," she told him honestly.

Lucius's eyes widened with surprise. "Those jewels were worth a small fortune," he said. "Why would you do something like that?"

Narcissa traced the line of his jaw. "I didn't need them anymore," she answered, before pressing her lips softly to his. "I'm a Malfoy now."


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note: This story is already so much longer than I had intended for it to be. Thank you everyone for sticking with me!

* * *

_The war grew more intense, and many more people vanished or were killed over the next few months. However, I must admit that I wasn't overly bothered by it. Iain and his precious family were safe, and Lucius and I were now enjoying some level of freedom thanks to our own workings._

_In the midst of this freedom, we also came to know each other better. We spent time together, and at night, he would curl his arms around me and tell me about his day. This was such a wonderful time for me, not only because I got to hear about his work, but because he often asked me for advice. He valued my word. I remembered during this time what he had said, about having dated Corinne. She had never been timid or empty-headed, and he had loved her fiercely._

_I did not need to hide myself from Lucius… or at least, not entirely._

_Just one month into 1977, I grew pregnant again._

_Lucius and I were elated. Both our hearts were finally free, the war was going our way, Abraxas's grip was loosening on the Malfoy fortune, and we were on our way to becoming a true husband and wife, with all the love and care we could hope for._

_Together, Lucius and I thought about names for our child. We decorated the nursery in an entirely new style, and we shopped catalogues for furniture._

_When my pregnancy went further than any of the others before it, we were ecstatic. I was eating well, and I grew larger than ever before. We bought everything we thought the baby might need – clothes and toys and blankets and whatever else we could think of._

_And then – for reasons I still could not tell you – I grew weak in the fifth month of the pregnancy. For just a few days, I felt truly unwell, and one afternoon when I went to lie down, I felt those dreadful pains once more. Miscarriages so late in a pregnancy are rare, and no healer could explain why it happened, but on June 9, 1977, I had my final miscarriage._

_The pain was worse than ever before. This time, there was more than blood. The baby had developed more than any of the others before it, but still, it could not live. That day was the most excruciating experience of my life, and I suffered so greatly during the process of the miscarriage that I nearly died._

_For two days, I languished in St. Mungo's Hospital, praying desperately for death._

* * *

**1977**

"I would give my life for this child."

Lucius looked up at Narcissa's words. He sat next to her hospital bed, bent over his knees, hands clasped around hers. "I know, darling," he murmured hoarsely. His eyes were red. The day outside was brilliantly sunny, and Narcissa's hospital room was bathed in sunlight, but they both flinched away from the bright rays. As they sat, with Narcissa lying on her side and Lucius holding her hand in both of his, healers and midwives bustled around, doing their jobs.

"Perhaps," managed Lucius, clearing his throat and smiling weakly, "we are simply not meant to have a child."

Narcissa shifted her head against her pillow. Her body felt useless. "You must have a child," she protested quietly, still feeling slow with exhaustion. "You are Lucius Malfoy. You need an heir."

"No," disagreed Lucius. "I need you."

Narcissa blinked rapidly, a tear sliding down her cheek and falling to her already sodden pillow. Sucking in a shaky breath, she tugged on Lucius's hand until he came to sit on the edge of her bed. Then she curled his arm against her chest, fingers locked in his, and Lucius leaned over to plant a kiss on her temple. For a moment, the couple simply stayed close together.

Their peace was soon interrupted, though, by the raucous entry of Abraxas Malfoy and Madam Rosier. Lucius and Narcissa looked up, and Lucius stood, his tender expression melting away into a cold stare that reflected his father's.

Abraxas looked at Narcissa with unveiled disgust. "You," he growled, pointing a finger at her. "Your womb is nothing but a graveyard! A place where babies go to die!"

"Father," cut in Lucius sharply.

"Well, I don't care if it bloody kills you," snarled Abraxas. "You're going to deliver a healthy child, and soon!"

"Father!" snapped Lucius, and this time, Abraxas looked over at him. Lucius straightened. "We are not trying for another child. We have had enough."

Abraxas screwed up his face in a grimace. "Like bloody hell you aren't! You're my son, you'll do as I say!"

"I am an adult," sneered Lucius. "And the head of this family in everything except name. If I say that my wife and I will not have a child, then that is how it will be."

"Lucius Malfoy," growled Abraxas. "You'd better listen to me, boy – "

"Or what?" asked Lucius, eyebrow raised. "You'll disown me? I'm all you have. What will become of your great fortune then, hm?"

Abraxas's eyes widened, as did Narcissa's. She had never, not once, heard Lucius openly defy Abraxas. No one in the room seemed to know what to do about it, Abraxas least of all. The old man sputtered for a moment, and Madam Rosier bristled, looking to Abraxas as if to say –  _Well, what are you going to about this?_

But Abraxas did nothing, too stunned and uncertain about Lucius's defiance.

"Now," continued Lucius coldly, "get out of my wife's hospital room. There is no need for either of you to be here." With that, he turned his back to Abraxas and went back to Narcissa's bed, taking her hand in his again. She felt a slight tremble there, but Lucius did not look back at his father again.

A few seconds later, Abraxas turned and marched out with a furious Madam Rosier next to him.

Once they were gone, Lucius let out a breath of relief, and Narcissa brought him down to curl next to her again, knowing then – for certain – that she was loved.

* * *

Two days later, Abraxas Malfoy died.

Narcissa liked to think it was the shock of Lucius's defiance that finally did him in, but it could have been anything. Someone might have coughed in southeast Asia and finished the job, who knew? Whatever the case, the old bastard was gone.

Abraxas's funeral was one of the best days of Narcissa's life.

Later that same evening, Narcissa invited Madam Rosier downstairs in the Manor's dungeons. The older witch had bustled in with a sneer, looking all around. "Narcissa?" she called out sharply in the dark, dank rooms. "Where are you, fool girl? You know you aren't supposed to be in here!"

Madam Rosier stopped in the center of the room, and that was when she spotted Narcissa, who stood next to a wall.

"Madam Rosier," said Narcissa primly, "I accept your resignation."

Then she pulled on a heavy chain, and the floor beneath Madam Rosier opened up and swallowed her whole. The old witch fell into a pit of water teeming with vicious grindylows, and Narcissa leaned over the edge to watch as the creatures sank their teeth into Madam Rosier and pulled her down, down below the dark water.

Smirking, Narcissa closed the pit again and walked out. Lucius was waiting at the top of the stairs for her, and he extended an arm to her, which she accepted.

"How did Madam Rosier take the news?" he asked lightly.

Narcissa's red lips curled. "Swimmingly."

Lucius laughed, and they went on their way.

* * *

The next few months were strange for Narcissa. Without Abraxas and Madam Rosier hanging over them, the young couple was somewhat at a loss, not really sure what to do or where to go. Narcissa now had all the freedom in the world, and she no longer had to carry the burden of conceiving a child, as she and Lucius had decided against it.

Still, she could not figure out what to do with herself, and that made her idle. Despite finally securing her freedom, Narcissa still could not shake the heaviness of her heart or her constant anxiety. It affected her sleep, her diet, her weight, and her overall health. She worried about not being well, and in return, she grew even more anxious. She was anxious about being anxious. She was sad about being sad. She was lonely, but she could not bring herself to try and make any real friends.

What was she doing wrong?

So, just as Lucius had done with her, Narcissa decided to ask his opinion. Lucius had not known what to tell her, but just a few days later, he came home with a book.

"Here," he said. "I've done my research, and I believe this will help you." He handed her the book, and Narcissa traced the cover. "It is for people with long-term melancholia," Lucius told her with a small smile. "According to this author, you are not the only one who feels this way."

Narcissa could hardly believe that. Everyone around her seemed to be doing just fine. Still, Lucius was right. If this witch had written a book on the topic, then surely she was not alone. This was a comforting thought.

Just minutes later, Narcissa sat down and began reading.

_Chapter One_

_The first step in getting better is recognizing your symptoms for what they are. Long-term melancholia, depression, and anxiety are all very real things. While calling them what they are may not help you much at first, you will soon be able to recognize them and talk yourself through many of your episodes._ _**Take a deep breath and tell yourself: this is the anxiety talking. My situation is not so dire. This is my depression. I am truly alright.** _

_After a while, you will not need to tell yourself these things. You will instinctively know them for what they are, and you will be able to respond to them quickly and effectively. You must know what is ailing you before you begin treatment. After all, if you contracted the flu, would your body heal on its own without medicine? Perhaps, but it would take longer and put you through much more grief. However, if you know what you are fighting, you can fix the source, not just the symptoms._

_You are not broken! There are many, many ways to help make your life better. You have only one life to live, and there is no reason for you to live it with a heavy heart and constant fear._

So, Narcissa tried that. Each day, when she woke up feeling dread for no reason at all, she sat on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath. She reminded herself constantly – you are safe. You are cared for. You are loved.

In truth, she could not know for certain that she was safe. After all, there was a war going on, and she and Lucius were much more involved in it than she wished. But she had to believe she was safe, because there would always be danger in the world. There was always going to be a conflict, a fight, a threat of some kind. That was the nature of living. So, Narcissa decided she could not dwell on the war.

Instead, she would tell herself as often as she could that her heart was heavy, but it would get better. Her sleep was muddled, but she was safe. Her hands shook, but Lucius was there to hold them.

The change was subtle, but it was there, laced in her constant mantra. She had symptoms, but they were not unshakeable. She was alright. She was not strange. She was not broken. She was just Narcissa.

_Chapter Two_

_See a healer! You may not believe they can help you because your symptoms are mostly internal, but they certainly can. It does not make you weak or unusual or "crazy." Healers are trained in these sorts of things just as they are trained in broken bones and jinx-mishaps!_

So, Narcissa went to a healer. Her body was trembling, and she could not be sure that the healer would not scorn her as she described her symptoms, but by the time it was all over with, the healer just smiled and told her she was very wise for coming to see him. He'd talked through various treatment options, offering tonics and potions if she'd like them, but also offering to simply counsel her for one session a week. Narcissa found it helped to talk through her symptoms, to be reaffirmed that she was not insane, that she was not alone. The healer explained the biological side of her symptoms, how the fluctuation of her hormones during the various pregnancies had probably played a part, how what she was feeling was just as logical as any other physical symptom.

And so Narcissa went back to the healer each week, and she felt a little better each time.

_Chapter Three_

_Take joy in everyday things. It is so easy to miss the pleasures in our lives, particularly when we are burdened with heaviness of the heart and mind. However, you absolutely must make yourself pause and appreciate any and all good things, no matter how small. It will be an exercise at first, but eventually you will find yourself taking delight without any effort at all._

So, Narcissa did just that.

Each time she sat down to read in a comfy chair, she paused and traced her hands over the soft fabric of the cushion. She looked at every detail of her book, taking delight in the way the pages smelled and the texture of the cover. She forced herself to pause and be grateful that she had the time, the health, and the aptitude to enjoy a good novel.

That felt nice, so Narcissa began doing the same for other things, too. When she sat down to eat a good meal, Narcissa paused and smiled, making herself take full stock of her meal. She appreciated the spices and the flavors, and she made herself think about how lucky she was just to know she always had food waiting. She did not have to struggle for it, or take it from someone else. And even if she'd been so poor as to afford only a bowl of soup each night, at least she had Lucius to eat it with.

After a while, Narcissa noticed these feelings of appreciation bubble up without any effort at all, and so she had little pockets of happiness each and every day, all of which began to add up over time.

_Chapter Four_

_Self-care is absolutely essential! When you are very sad, there will be days when you do not want to wash, brush your hair, or get dressed in clean clothes. This is normal for depression and melancholia, but you absolutely MUST make yourself do these things. It will be so very hard at first, but do not give up. Your burdened mind will try to convince you that you are not worthy of these things. DO NOT LISTEN TO THAT VOICE! You are worthy of all this and more!_

So, Narcissa created a routine. In the morning and at night, she forced herself to take long baths and wash her hair, even when she felt so lethargic, so weighted down that she thought she did not have the energy to do any of it. She practiced taking joy in simple things again, and she marveled at the way the washcloth felt over her skin, the  _pop_! of the bubbles in the bath, and the marvelous feeling of running her fingers through her own untangled hair.

She got rid of all the awful clothes Madam Rosier had made her buy, and she ordered her own. She also bought herself a new vanity, and she began filling it with soft creams and scented lotions, products for her hair and little make-ups. This was perhaps easier for Narcissa than some others, given the amount of gold she had, but the simple process of setting up a space that was entirely devoted to herself was joyful enough. Had she been destitute, Narcissa might have been just as happy to have a simple table set up in a corner, so long as she knew it was just for her and her little things – a place for her to love and appreciate herself.

_Chapter Five_

_Lavender and Peppermint are the best scents to help with depression and anxiety. They will work wonders for you! Get anything you can – candles, bath salts, lotions, or teas with these scents, and you will notice a difference!_

So, Narcissa bought herself a lavender-scented candle. To her great surprise, it did wonders. The scent was amazingly restorative, and she immediately told Lucius about it. The next day, he came home from Diagon Alley with an entire basket full of expensive products, all in lavender or peppermint scents. From that moment on, Narcissa surrounded herself with these smells, even taking peppermint oil and putting it on her hands.

Each time she inhaled it, she felt exciting little tingles work their way through her body, and her heart grew lighter.

_Chapter Six_

_Another essential part of self-care is your physical health. Drink lots of water (not just tea!), eat regularly, and SLEEP ON A SCHEDULE! You are a human being, and your body will respond to routines appropriately. In all likeliness, you struggle with either sleeping too much or not at all. Force yourself to go to bed at normal times, as well as to wake up at a decent hour. Again, this will be very hard to do at first, but there are things you can do to make it easier. If you have trouble falling asleep, plan nightly walks or jogs just before you go to bed. Do not take in caffeine or sugar in the evening. Stay active throughout the day. Listen to soothing music. If your sleeplessness still persists, see a healer._

_Alternatively, if you sleep too much, force yourself to stay awake during the day. Stick to your schedule, no matter how hard it is. Keep yourself BUSY! Idleness is the worst thing you can do for depression and anxiety. Whatever it is that keeps you occupied, focus on that. Eventually, your body will adjust to your new routine, and things will become easier._

_Sometimes, being happy simply takes practice. There is nothing wrong with that. The best things in life are rarely easy, but that does not mean they are not worth it._

So, Narcissa changed the way she ate, drank, and slept. She changed her diet, but not in the way many other witches did. She was not trying to lose weight – in fact, she needed to gain some – but mainly, she focused on eating well. She wanted to eat enough, but take in food that was good for her. She drank lots of water, which she had not done before, and she found herself having more and more energy as the days went on. She forced herself to lie down at night and wake up early in the morning without lingering in bed, and the cloudy lethargy that had hung around her head for so many months finally began to dissipate. She did not wake up one day to find herself healed, but instead, she simply discovered more joy in the things she already did.

Her body felt lighter. She was not as bothered. Her mind was clearer. And this made everything easier, more pleasurable than ever before.

_Chapter Seven_

_Your mind and body will try to force you to stay still and do nothing. They will tell you that you are not able to do anything of worth._ _**This is not true!** _ _Find yourself a creative hobby and do it as often as you can. It does not matter if you are "good" at it or not._

_What you are doing, you are doing for yourself. And that is all that matters._

So, Narcissa stopped embroidering, which was what Madam Rosier had her doing, and she began doing – well, pretty much everything else. Sometimes she would write, just for fun, and she might tease Lucius with a poem or two, but she mostly kept it to herself. She listened to Lucius play the piano, which he was remarkably good at, and she considered it a hobby because she could close her eyes and imagine stories to match the songs. Lucius would sometimes play for hours, and Narcissa would recline on the couch and simply listen, her lips curled in a smile.

Other days, she would paint. A few months later, she asked Lucius if she could do some re-decorating in the Manor, and he told her to do whatever she liked with it. With this new project in mind, Narcissa awoke each day with tendrils of excitement. She began thinking in designs and colors and fabrics, and the entire manor grew more invigorated under her care. She even hung up a few of her own paintings, proudly displaying them along the corridors or in their rooms. This made her feel remarkably fortunate.

Later on, she picked up embroidery and cross-stich again, but this time, she did only the patterns she wanted. She quickly found things were much more enjoyable this way, and she felt happy.

_Chapter Eight_

_Spend time outside whenever possible. Staying indoors is perfectly fine, but it can make you feel trapped, even if you are more comfortable there. Fresh air will make all the difference. As before, you will not want to do this at first. It may take months, but eventually, you will come to love and appreciate everything from a sunny sky to a brewing thunderstorm._

This one was particularly difficult for Narcissa, who was not a "nature" person and did not appreciate the outdoors one bit. However, she did as the book suggested and made herself go out. Lucius was very helpful with this, and once she told him what she needed to do, he had gardeners and landscapers come by and completely re-model the gardens with Narcissa's guidance.

The garden soon became a place of comfort for Narcissa, with sweet smells, beautiful bursts of color, nice white benches and even a swing. After that, she felt no hesitation in going outside at all, and some of her happiest summer days that year were spent under a large oak tree, sitting on a blanket just beyond the house. Lucius often joined her, and the young husband and wife grew to knew each other more during those times, just talking and relaxing in the sunshine.

Other days, they sat together near the windows and watched the rain. That was nice, too.

_Chapter Nine_

_Do not isolate yourself. There is nothing wrong with enjoying solitude – alone time is healthy, too! – but spend time with others, as well. Start by working in a comfort zone. Set up your social interactions around an activity that relaxes you. From there, you may find yourself grow comfortable enough to meet with your new friends elsewhere, too. Likewise, know when you are at your limit, and do not feel guilty for needing to get away._

So, Narcissa began to re-visit old friends, often inviting them over to the Manor so she could be in her own space. From there, she vetted them, getting to know the other witches all over again. Some of them she dismissed immediately. If they did not treat her well or make her happy, she would not let them poison her mood. Toxic people, she decided, were not worth her time. She could as polite to them as custom dictated, but that did not mean she had to seek them out.

To her surprise, Elizabeth Burke – who had married after finishing Madam Labelle's, and was now Elizabeth Parkinson – had grown quite amiable in the nearly-four years the girls had been parted, and Narcissa found she enjoyed her company the most out of all the other witches. As a result, Narcissa and Elizabeth became quite close. Elizabeth could not be a true confidante, but she was certainly an ally and rather more caring than most of Narcissa's other friends. She, too, had suffered a miscarriage the year before, and Narcissa found a tremendous sense of relief in talking to someone her own age who had gone through the same experience.

And yet she might have never known this, had she never reached out. Because of that, Narcissa was happy.

_Chapter Ten_

_Know, above all else, that you are worthy of happiness. Your feelings will do their best to beat you down, but you must practice telling yourself every single day that you deserve joy. There are so many people in this world who long for nothing more than good health and a caring embrace. Do not forfeit your life to an illness you CAN overcome. Love what you have. Practice being grateful. Recognize your symptoms for what they are. Seek help when you need it – including healing and medicine. Talk with those who love you._

_And never, ever forget that you are not alone._

Narcissa closed the book, her lips curled in a smile.

* * *

In December of that same year, Narcissa received a letter.

She did not look at it at first; she was busy comparing two different rug designs for the newly-renovated west corridor. After a while, though, she was satisfied with her choice, and she got up to take the letter from where the owl had dropped it.

There was no return name on the envelope, but on the front, clear as day, was her name: Narcissa Malfoy. Curious, Narcissa took a seat at her window and opened the letter to read it by the fading afternoon light.

_Dear Narcissa,_

_Hello! My name is Algernon, and I think you and I should be friends._

_Perhaps I should tell you a little about myself. I'm twenty-one years old, but I'll be twenty-two in just a few months. I have a wonderful wife named Rebecca (she says hello to you), and a son named Alisdair, though we just call him Ali. He's a year and a half old, and he looks more like me every day (poor bloke)._

_My family and I lived in England until a year ago, and it wasn't great. In the end, we had to move because things were getting rather dangerous with a war brewing. Fortunately, I had an amazing old friend come and help us get somewhere safe. Thanks to her, my family and I were able to start a completely new life in a beautiful magical community just outside of Stockholm, Sweden._

_Before we left England, I worked two terrible jobs just to keep us going. Things were very hard, and I usually felt like the worst father and husband in the world. Thanks to the generosity of my friend, though, my family and I were able to come here, and we bought a small house on a beautiful lake completely surrounded by trees. Words cannot describe how happy it makes me to walk out my front door and see the lake just feet from my house, waiting for me. We even have a small wooden dock on our property, and I probably spend more time there than I should, fishing and watching the water._

_My wife was able to get a new job working in a local division of Gringotts, and she's improved her Swedish a lot. I'm still working on mine. I think the Scottish accent messes it up._

_That's alright, though, because just a few months after we moved to our new home, I came across a wizard struggling to get his boat to shore. I helped him get it on the bank, and then I fixed the hole in the bottom. The old wizard was so impressed, he recommended me to the wizard who'd built his boat, and wouldn't you know it – he took me on as his apprentice._

_So now I'm a magical boat builder._

_I've been working with my mentor for several months, and I'm getting better every day. I've always been good with my hands, but now I'm learning how to blend that with magical skill. It's amazing, and I wake up every day excited to go and learn something new. I'm also earning plenty of gold, and my family and I have never been better cared for. I'm even adding on to our house! I messed up a wall yesterday and nearly got crushed, but hey, it was a learning experience._

_Anyway, that's enough about me. Tell me about you! I'm sure you have many wonderful things to talk about, and I'm happy to hear about whatever makes you happy. That's what friends are for, after all._

_Sorry if any of this looks strange. Ali keeps grabbing my quill and trying to eat it._

_Your friend,_

_Algernon_

Never before had Narcissa smiled so wide. Clutching the letter, she fell over on her bed and hugged it to her chest, laughing joyfully while tears ran down her face.


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews! They are all so lovely to read.

After this chapter, we will really start skipping through the years, so be ready!

* * *

From that moment on, Narcissa and Iain – ahem,  _Algernon_  – were penpals.

Practically every other day, Narcissa sat down at her writing desk and wrote Iain a letter. They talked of all sorts of things: books they'd read, what Iain was working on, how Narcissa was decorating the house, what little Ali was up to.

Narcissa was cautious how much she wrote about the war – she didn't need the letters intercepted with any untoward opinions inside them– but she kept Iain informed about the most general events, things he'd have read about in the  _Prophet_  if he'd still been in England. She'd mentioned once that he might want to subscribe – magical newspapers delivered all over the world – but he told her he'd rather hear it from her.

Narcissa got the impression that Iain likely shared the letters with his wife, which was fine with her. There was never anything in the letters that a sensible spouse would have objected to. In fact, Narcissa would have happily shared the letters with Lucius, had Iain's identity not been so sensitive.

Sometimes, though, Iain asked things that Narcissa figured he probably didn't let Rebecca see, questions like what should he get her for their anniversary, or why did she bother to ask his opinion on things when she'd clearly already made up her mind.

Narcissa had giggled at that.  _Because she wants you to confirm her opinion, obviously,_ she wrote back.

Narcissa often asked for Iain's advice as well. He was so practical and logical, and he knew so many things Narcissa had simply never thought of.

_I want to lay a new cobblestone path in our garden,_ she once wrote,  _but we live in Wiltshire, and the grounds are so wet from the marshes! I'm not sure what to do about it,_ she wrote.

_You have to dig the space for it first, and then lay gravel. Here, send an owl to Ritchie Morrison. He was a year ahead of us in Hufflepuff, he's got a landscaping business,_ wrote Iain in return.

So Narcissa did what he said, and it turned out marvelously.

All the while, Narcissa and Lucius spent as much time together as they could. The war was now in full-swing, but to be quite honest, it did not affect Narcissa very much. Within her upper-society circles, she had little to worry about. Lucius shielded her, quite effectively, from any of the fighting or the dirtiness. And when they had time, Lucius often went out of his way to make Narcissa so unbelievably happy.

"Happy Christmas," Lucius told her during their first Christmas alone together. Smiling, he gave her a small box to unwrap, which Narcissa did.

Out of the box, she pulled the most stunning white-gold bracelet she had ever seen. It also came with a small charm, and when Narcissa looked at it closely, she could see a true, honest-to-Merlin constellation inside.

"Attach it to the bracelet," instructed Lucius.

Beaming, Narcissa did as she was told, and her eyes widened as the stars jumped from the bracelet and surrounded them. It felt as if they were floating in an ethereal sky, far out in space, with stars all around them.

"This is the Boots constellation, which contains the Arcturus star," explained Lucius with a smile. "From what I understand, Arcturus was one of the first Black family names to start the constellation tradition."

"It was, yes," said Narcissa breathlessly. The stars jumped back into her bracelet, housed once more on Narcissa's delicate wrist. Her eyes filled with happy tears. "Thank you, Lucius."

He took her hand. "Each year, for Christmas, I will get you a new star or constellation to put on your bracelet. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," she murmured, giving him a kiss.

And it truly was.

That year, Narcissa sent a whole fleet of packages to Iain's home in Sweden for the holidays. For Iain, she sent his favorite candies and a ton of Chocolate Frogs, for his wife a lovely hat and scarf, and for baby Ali, a hand-stitched blanket with his name on it.

In return, the Stewart family sent Narcissa the loveliest Swedish-style birdhouse she had ever seen. It was truly magnificent, with red walls and a white roof, detailed etchings and hand-painted flowers all the way up the sides. Narcissa hung it in her beloved garden with the happiest of sighs.

* * *

1977 shifted into 1978, and 1978 to 1979.

The war raged on, the elites did their best to pretend as though it wasn't, and more people were kidnapped or killed every day.

But Narcissa was shielded from all of that, and in fact, she considered those years to be quite good.

She would have liked for Lucius to be home more often, but he was constantly abroad or elsewhere, working diligently for the Dark Lord or feigning interest in the Minister of Magic. Narcissa soon surpassed all her friends in the trends of fashion and elegance, and the Malfoy Manor became  _the_ premier place of all British magical society.

Every year, at least three major dinners or balls were held there, and Narcissa organized each of them to the letter. She received praise from all sides on her party-planning skills, her choice of dinnerware, her musical entertainment, all of it. Even when the Minister of Magic changed once more, Lucius and Narcissa were able to charm him, too.

In essence, things were going very, very well for the Malfoys.

Until November of 1979, when Narcissa discovered she was pregnant.

At first, she could not figure out how it had happened. She had been taking some extra tonics for a brief bout with the flu, and then just like that, her contraceptive potion was essentially worthless.

All day, she paced, waiting for Lucius to get home. The Brisby potion, swirling in purple, sat on her desk. Narcissa glared at it, fury filling her. How dare her body do this to her?

She did not feel happiness. She did not feel hope. She had long ago purged herself of those emotions in relation to pregnancy. Her body, she knew now, simply would not allow it. And she had come to terms with that, she had! And so why, why was this happening?

When she told Lucius, he stared and then sat heavily in a chair. "What shall we do?" he asked weakly.

"I don't know," whispered Narcissa.

"Darling," said Lucius, reaching out and taking her hand. "The healers said after the last time that another may… may kill you."

"Yes, I remember." Narcissa bit her lip. "I could – I could take a potion to stop it." There was a long, heavy pause. "But… But I cannot help but feel as though – even though we know how this will end – I should give it a chance." She sighed quietly. "Like I gave all the others." She unconsciously held her stomach, and Lucius nodded slowly.

"We won't make an announcement," he said quietly, and Narcissa nodded.

After Lucius left for work the next day, she sat down at her writing table.

_Algernon,_

_I just found out I am with child again._

_I have never told you this, but I have been pregnant three times before. Each time, I lost the child before it was ever born. Most recently, I was nearly five months along when it happened. I do not think I need to tell you how devastating this was for me. You know me well enough to understand how I suffered._

_Three times, I could not protect my precious baby. Three times, I have had to say good-bye to a child I never got the chance to meet. I want to be a mother more than anything, Algernon. I do._

_But I am not excited for this pregnancy, because I know how it will end. I told Lucius I would go forward with it because this baby deserved a chance, but I cannot help but fear the pain. I can already feel it, so familiar, creeping into my bones. I never thought I would have to feel this way again, and now that I am, I cannot stop crying. I am shaking. I am terrified._

_I do not know what to do, other than endure._

_I'm not sure what I expect for you to tell me. I only knew I needed to tell you about it. Please hug your wife and child tightly tonight. Be glad for their warmth and their love and their health._

_Your friend,_

_Narcissa_

The very next day, Narcissa received a reply. When she opened the envelope, a strange silver object fell out. It was like a totem or a charm, a little larger than a galleon, in the shape of a lower-case T. The metal was thin silver, and it had swirling etchings all along it. It was a lovely, simple little thing, but Narcissa wasn't sure what it was for, so she read the letter.

_Narcissa,_

_I cannot imagine anyone in this world more suited to be a mother than you. I'm so sorry for your losses. Honestly, I stayed up all night thinking about it – you, your family, my family, how I would feel in your position. I tried to think of anything I could do for you, anything to offer you comfort._

_So, here it is._

_What you have in your hand now is called a Scottish cross. It's just a little pendant that used to be on a necklace, but it's very important to me. When I left home to get married to Rebecca, my mother gave that to me. The symbolism of it won't mean anything to you, but that's okay. The point is, every time I have been afraid or sad since leaving home, I have held that pendant tight in my hand, squeezing it with all my might, until I felt the fear start to go away. It comforted me because it reminded me of my mother, and it helped me remember all of the people who loved me. It was a symbol of home, even when I was far away. It brought me reassurance like nothing else. I remember when Ali was born, I was terrified of something going wrong. I held on to that cross, though, and it made me feel stronger._

_Now, I want you to have it. I believe in you, Narcissa. Even if this pendant's purpose is completely foreign to you, know that it has all my best wishes, all my hope, and all my desire for your happiness housed inside of it. Some people might think well wishes are useless, but if magic is real, then surely the power of good thoughts is real, too. Don't you think?_

_Please be safe._

_Your friend,_

_Algernon_

Narcissa finished reading the letter, her lips quirked in a small teary smile. Looking down at the pendant again in her hand, she smoothed a thumb over the curls etched into the center of it. It was true that the symbolism was lost to her, but the sentiment was so poignant that it didn't matter. With a deep breath, Narcissa curled the pendant in her hand, squeezing hard.

_Iain held this_ , she thought.

And she felt a little better.

* * *

The months progressed, and the years shifted again.

Narcissa's pregnancy went on, but she and Lucius did not discuss it. As he had suggested, they did not make an announcement. They did not talk of names or schools or anything of the like. The pregnancy passed the twelve-week mark, but Narcissa forced herself to give it no thought at all.

The most she did in acknowledgement of her condition was visit the midwife for her regular appointments. However, she did so each time with a heart encased in steel. She received the news of the baby's progress with little comment. She prepared no love at all.

And even as the pregnancy moved into the fourth month, and then the fifth, she and Lucius kept absolutely silent.

They could not stand it. They did not dare hope.

It had been years since their last loss, but the pain lingered still, simmering under their flesh and in their hearts.

And on and on the pregnancy went, over great distances and in even greater silences.

* * *

"Here," whispered Lucius that Christmas. "I got you a new charm."

Narcissa smiled softly and opened it up. This time, when she inspected the constellation, it was one she did not recognize.

"This," said Lucius tenderly, "is a constellation in the far northern sky called Draco. It is one of your oldest family names. I don't think anyone's used it in centuries… but I was always rather fond of it." He and Narcissa studied the magical sky together from the comfort of their sitting room.

Narcissa's soft pink lips quirked. "I like it, too."

* * *

_**June 5** _ _**th** _ _**, 1980** _

Narcissa awoke with a start.

Blinking against the very early morning sunlight, she shifted up groggily in her bed and winced. What had woken her up? Lucius lay sleeping next to her, undisturbed. Frowning, she moved her arm around her large belly, trying to work herself out of the bed.

That was when a cramp hit her, and Narcissa gasped in surprise. Lurching forward, she let out a cry. Immediately, the thought came to her.

_This is it. Today is the day I lose it._

She could already feel the liquid pooling between her legs, and despite herself – despite her complete apathy throughout the pregnancy, her fierce determination not to feel even an ounce of hope – she felt the misery begin to overwhelm her. With an angry, tearful huff, Narcissa pushed her hands underneath the blanket and shoved it away, feeling the liquid on her fingertips.

But when she pushed the blanket away, there was no blood there.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. No blood? Then what was… this? Narcissa bunched up her nightgown, feeling all around. There was definitely moisture there, but it wasn't blood. It was clear and rather watery, but obviously not urine.

Why wasn't it blood? Narcissa's brain refused to do anything other than ask this question.

Finally, she thwacked Lucius on the arm. "Lucius! Wake up!"

Her husband jerked awake, staring at her rather irritably for a moment before he sat up and looked between her upraised knees to see her sodden nightgown.

"Lucius," she said, staring right at him. "Why isn't there blood?"

"There isn't any? None?" he asked.

"None!"

They stared at each other for several seconds. "Narcissa," said Lucius blankly. "I think you might be going into labor."

Narcissa blinked. "I – Really?"

And then another cramp hit her, and she gasped, holding her stomach. "Oh, bloody hell!" she hissed, and Lucius flew out of the bed, running to the window and sending out a spell for St. Mungo's. Within seconds, a fleet of healers and midwives had arrived. Healer Joan, who had helped Narcissa through all her other pregnancies, gasped with delight when she saw her.

"There's – there's no blood!" Narcissa practically yelled in a panic.

"Alright, alright, come on," said Healer Joan, and within moments, Narcissa was loaded up and on her way to St. Mungo's. In a whirlwind of activity, Narcissa was brought in and placed in a room, where she was put up on a bed.

"I don't understand," Narcissa kept saying, because she refused – she  _refused_  to accept this truth until it was said to her plainly, by someone who knew, she HAD to hear it. "Tell me, Healer Joan. Tell me what's happening."

The healer beamed at her, a wide smile from ear to ear. "You're going into labor, Mrs. Malfoy. Right now."

Lucius dragged both of his hands over his face, completely unable to do anything other than stand by and fret. Narcissa made an incredulous noise, and then she tossed her head back against the bed, watery eyes staring up at the ceiling as all the prep went on around her.

It must have been a while, but it seemed like only minutes to Narcissa before she was being instructed to push, breathe, push, push, breathe. Lucius grabbed her hand and held it tight, but the other one was iron-clad on the bedsheets. The pain was intense, and the strain – the mere pressure down there – was enormous, but Narcissa did as the healers told her, over and over and over again.

Until at last, it was done.

Infant cries broke through the tense silence of the room, and Narcissa and Lucius looked shakily to the midwife between Narcissa's knees.

"Congratulations," she told them cheerfully. "You are now the parents of a beautiful little boy."

Lucius and Narcissa gaped, unable to speak or react. Then Lucius glanced at Narcissa and slowly released her hand, his grey eyes never leaving the baby as the healers cleaned him up. The little boy squalled the entire time, but by the time they wrapped him up in a blanket, he'd calmed.

"Here you are, Mister Malfoy," said Healer Joan. "Here is your son."

With that, the healer handed the bundle over to Lucius, who took the child in his arms with a reverence like Narcissa had never seen. Turning slowly, he moved over to Narcissa and delivered the child into her arms.

As soon as the baby's tender cheek pressed against the bare skin of Narcissa's collarbone, she exploded into tears. "He's – oh, Merlin – look at him – bloody – beautiful." That was all she could manage before she fell into sobs once more, her trembling arms shifting him closer so she could kiss the soft skin on his forehead.

"Is he - " started Lucius with a tearful swallow. "Is he healthy?"

"All his vitals were normal," said the healer with a joyful smile. "And he's a good weight, too. Very well-developed. From everything we can see, he is a very healthy little boy."

This made Lucius sink into the chair next to Narcissa's bed and put his face in his hands again, tears sliding down his cheeks. After a moment, he managed to look up again and reach out with his hand, touching the blanket their precious child was wrapped in.

The baby made a little sound like a whimper, but when Narcissa curled him closer, he relaxed. His eyes were clamped shut, but for just a few seconds, he opened them to peer at his parents.

"Oh, Lucius," sobbed Narcissa. "He looks just like you!"

They both let out incredulous laughs, and Lucius touched the baby's tiny hand. "He does, doesn't he?"

"Oh, my beloved child," whispered Narcissa. "How did I come to deserve you? What did I do?"

There was no answer, of course, but Narcissa did not need one. All she knew was that she had him, and little else mattered.

"What should we call him?" Lucius asked after a little while. "We never even thought of a name."

Narcissa glanced at her wrist, where her charm bracelet always stayed. Her lips lifted in a smile. "Draco," she said, and her smile grew into a brilliant expression of joy. "Draco Lucius Malfoy."

Shifting forward, Lucius pressed his forehead to her arm, eyes closed. "That sounds perfect," he murmured. "A perfect name for our perfect son."

* * *

Narcissa and little baby Draco were able to come home a few days later. Narcissa was sore and exhausted, but by Merlin, she had never felt stronger.

On the first night back at the Manor, after Draco had been placed in his elegant new crib and Lucius had fallen into a deep sleep next to her, Narcissa held the cross in her left hand and started a letter to Iain with her right.

_Algernon,_

_I am a mother. I have a son._

_There are no words to describe to you this feeling. I cannot even explain to you how it happened. I rather think I lost track of time. I was not even entirely aware of how far along I was. And then just a few days ago, on June 5_ _th_ _, I went into labor._

_There was no blood. Can you believe it? My son was born, Algernon. He was born and he is healthy and beautiful and the most remarkable thing I have ever seen._

_I am a mother. I am a mother! Are those words even real?_

_I've sent you a photograph of him. Isn't he marvelous? His name is Draco._

_Thank you for everything. Your good wishes and hopes made all the difference, I think._

_Your friend,_

_Narcissa_

The very next day, Narcissa received a package with a letter on top.

She opened the letter first. It did not even have a greeting. All it said was:

_I BLOODY KNEW YOU WERE MEANT TO BE A MOTHER!_

Laughing heartily, Narcissa opened up the package to find – to her delight – a lovely stuffed dragon. Tears welled up in her eyes as she chuckled, and she took the stuffed dragon, moving over to Draco's crib, where her little son lay sleeping. There, she tenderly placed the stuffed dragon near his head.

"Oh, my little Draco," she whispered adoringly, leaning against the railing of the crib as she smiled down at her son. "Light of my life, keeper of my heart…"

* * *

Author's Note: I cried the whole time I wrote this chapter.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: We are catching up to The Sacred 28! A lot of time skips in this chapter, so make sure to pay attention to the dates… Thanks for everything, guys. You're the best.

* * *

Draco Lucius Malfoy was the best baby there ever was.

And perhaps Narcissa was a bit biased – how could she not be? – but truly, Lucius and Narcissa's miracle child was everything they could have ever hoped for. Everyone who saw him agreed that he was the handsomest baby, and even better than that, he was strong and healthy. He grew so quickly! Narcissa could hardly believe it. And oh, he was so clever, too. He did everything early: rolling over, sitting up, walking, talking.

His first word, to Narcissa's amusement, was "Mine!" Lucius had looked rather proud at that.

And oh, was he not just the most affectionate little thing? He rarely cried, but when he did, it was nearly almost always remedied with a hug. Draco loved to be coddled, and he seemed most content when sitting in Narcissa's lap.

What he seemed to find most fascinating about Lucius was his hair. Draco touched Lucius's hair all the time when he was nearby, sometimes yanking it (Lucius wore it pulled back after that for his own sanity), but other times just stroking it and laying his cheek against the silky strands. Draco's hair was exactly like Lucius's, too, and as it grew longer, Narcissa would run her fingers through it with the happiest of sighs.

_Honestly, I pity the other women who have boys the same age as my Draco,_ she wrote to Iain.  _He is certainly going to be the handsomest in his year, and a Malfoy, too. Those other little ones don't even stand a chance!_

She could imagine Iain's chuckle and eyeroll, even as she read his response.  _I know it's useless to say this,_ wrote Iain,  _but try not to spoil the boy too much, eh?_

Useless indeed. Draco wanted for nothing.

Unfortunately, Draco's first year was absolutely fraught with violence all across the UK. Normally, a family like the Malfoys would have spent their time taking lavish international vacations or hosting dignitaries from all over the world.

But the war was at its height, and Narcissa was terrified to take Draco even out of the front door of the manor. In fact, she rarely left herself, and Draco's only trips were the occasional visits to friends nearby.

As the year progressed, things grew worse.

Aurors and Death Eaters were now openly fighting. Lucius's true allegiances remained veiled, but he was so heavily involved in Voldemort's activities that even he admitted he wished he could simply be home more often.

"It will all be over soon," he promised her gently, holding Draco in his arms. "And it will all be worth it, once we win. The Dark Lord swears it."

It did not seem that way to Narcissa. That year, Marlene McKinnon, a witch Narcissa remembered from school, was murdered along with her entire family. Edgar Bones, his wife, and his children were all killed as well. Fabian and Gideon Prewett, two former classmates and pure-bloods themselves, fought against an entire group of Death Eaters and were ultimately destroyed. Their sister, Molly, had alone survived.

Benjy Fenwick, the Gryffindor boy who had given Narcissa extra seeds in class once, was later blasted by a dark curse into so many pieces that the Aurors had had trouble gathering him up.

And then Bellatrix, Narcissa's protector for so many years, was arrested along with her husband and sent to Azkaban. They had tortured two Aurors, the Longbottoms, into insanity, and now they were to pay the price. Narcissa sobbed, overwhelmed with misery at the thought of her sister being locked away.

Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. The war went on, and it took its toll on the whole country.

Finally, everything came to a head.

* * *

_**October 31** _ _**st** _ _**, 1981** _

Narcissa reclined comfortably in a chair in Draco's nursery, carefully laying some photographs into his baby book. Her precious child slept nearby in his crib.

The door burst open.

Narcissa looked up, alarmed, as Lucius appeared in a most manic state. His eyes were wide, his face was stricken, and he looked almost wild with fear.

"Narcissa," he panted, hurrying in and shutting the door behind him.

"What is it, darling?" she asked, jumping up. Lucius reached over to her and gripped both of her arms. For a moment, he was unable to speak.

"Narcissa, dear, we …. The Dark Lord… " He choked on the words, and then finally met her gaze. "The Dark Lord has been defeated."

Narcissa's heart dropped.

"What?" she breathed, her eyes wide. "But… how?"

Lucius let go of her and paced, shoving his silvery hair from his face. "I'm – I'm not quite sure. It was – it was something to do with the  _child_."

"What child?" asked Narcissa, aghast. Lucius looked up at her, his lips parted. He seemed flabbergasted and panicked at the same time.

"The Potter child. The Dark Lord needed to kill him, but when he did attempted it, something strange happened. The curse… backfired."

Narcissa sat numbly in her chair. "You mean to say the Dark Lord was toppled by a mere infant?"

"I don't know," admitted Lucius, hand over his face. "All I know is, he's bloody well gone. And in just the last few hours, the damn Ministry has been snatching people up left and right!" He faced his wife. "Narcissa, my involvement in this will be discovered very quickly, if it hasn't already."

Narcissa's eyes jerked up to his and she stood again. "Lucius, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a tremble. They both looked to Draco's crib, and she saw him inhale sharply, casting his eyes aside as if he could not stand to look.

Narcissa swallowed before grabbing Lucius's arm. "Lucius, you cannot go to Azkaban. You can't! You have a son, you have me! Surely you can – you can find a way to get out of it, can't you?"

"Perhaps," muttered Lucius, "if I line the right pockets with gold and sacrifice every ounce of dignity I've got – "

"Then do it!" snapped Narcissa furiously. "Your dignity means nothing right now, do you understand? I don't care if you have to get on your knees and BEG for forgiveness!" Hot tears rushed down her cheeks. "Do you hear me, Lucius Malfoy? You are going to do whatever it takes to stay out of Azkaban and at home with your family!"

Lucius blinked, and then after a long pause, he gave a shaky nod. "Yes," he whispered, looking again to Draco's crib. "Yes, I will… do what I must."

A few hours later, the Aurors came for Lucius, and Narcissa watched him go.

* * *

It took months, but at long last, the trials came to an end, and Lucius was found innocent. Their reputation was damaged, but it would recover. All Narcissa cared about was that her husband was home.

Finally, after so long, the war was over.

So, with her family in tact and her son in her arms, Narcissa began the best years of her life.

And each special moment, she shared with Iain over their many, many letters.

* * *

_**1985** _

_Dear Algernon,_

_I'm so glad Ali's arm is healing up well! You know, you complain about him always getting into trouble and getting hurt, but where do you think he gets that from, hm? You know very well!_

_Oh, guess what? Thaddeus wrote to me, and he said he and his husband are expecting their first child! How exciting! They are using a Muggle method called a "surrogate." He tried to explain to me, but I confess, I really didn't understand. Do you know anything about it? If not, ask Rebecca. She might have an easier time explaining it. Oh, and tell her I said thank you for the tea pot. It has become my absolute favorite._

_Speaking of children, though, you will never believe just how much Draco has grown. And he is so clever, too, so bright! Of course, sometimes that leads him to be a little mischievous… But what little boy isn't? …_

_Dear Narcissa,_

_I'm not at all surprised that your boy is very intelligent. Or mischievous, for that matter. I mean, you were the one who suggested we raid Slughorn's liquor cabinet._

_Draco is probably just learning from you…_

"I don't know how he did it!" howled the tutor, Mr. Davies, "but I know he did!" The aged wizard pointed a stubby red finger at the little boy standing between Narcissa and Lucius. "That boy is a MENACE!"

Narcissa very carefully quelled her laughter. "Mr. Davies, I understand you are upset – "

"Upset!" exclaimed the man. "Look at me!"

Lucius and Narcissa paused and observed the irate wizard, who was currently covered head to toe in bright pink boils. One of them popped even as he stood in front of them, and five-year-old Draco snickered behind his parents.

"Now, now, let's see," said Lucius, before shifting to Draco, who smiled innocently. "Draco, did you put something in your tutor's tea?"

Draco gasped, touching his chest. "Of course not, Father," said Draco with wide eyes. "I would never."

Narcissa stroked her son's head. "See, there, Mr. Davies? Draco said he did not do it."

The wizard fisted his hands near his thick mustache, which was currently pulsing with yet another pink boil. "What? Of course he did! How can you believe a child over me?"

"Mr. Davies," began Lucius evenly, "either what you are saying is not true – in which case you are lying about my son – or you are telling the truth, and you were thusly outsmarted by a five-year-old. Either way, I do not think you are fit to be my son's tutor." Lucius beckoned towards the door. "You are dismissed."

Mr. Davies balked, his lips parted, and then he fumbled over an apology, trying desperately to make amends. Finally, he gathered up his cloak and hat and left, grumbling all the while. One last boil popped just as he left, and Draco giggled again.

Narcissa and Lucius exchanged smirks, and then Narcissa turned to pick up Draco and place him on her hip, her expression shifting instantly into a beaming smile. "There's my little Draco," she said sweetly. "You don't need that awful tutor, now do you?"

"No, Mother," he said with a grin.

"Come on, let's go get you a treat."

* * *

_**1986** _

One day, Lucius found one of Narcissa's letters from Iain, unopened with the rest of the post. He came to her, looking cautious. "Who is Algernon?" he asked, waving the closed envelope.

Narcissa looked up. Her heart sputtered a little, but she kept calm. "An old friend from school," she told him.

"I don't remember any Algernon," commented Lucius lightly, still holding the letter. Narcissa turned back to her mirror and waved a hand dismissively.

"He was a year behind me, in Ravenclaw. You wouldn't have known him."

Lucius looked at the letter. "And what do you two write about?"

Narcissa shifted to face him again. "Nothing important," she said, before rising. At Lucius's expression, she touched his arm. "Open it, if you like."

Lucius hesitated.

"Really," said Narcissa. "Read it."

Lucius paused, but then he opened the letter and read aloud. " _Dear Narcissa,"_  he began tonelessly, " _I'm so glad I always ask you about the rich noble types when they come to commission boats from me. I definitely would have mistaken that girl for his daughter and not his wife_." Lucius paused, an eyebrow raised, before going on. " _Anyway, Rebecca says to tell you to make sure to read this month's Witch Weekly_ – " Lucius paused. "Who is Rebecca?"

"His wife," answered Narcissa patiently.

Lucius seemed a little appeased by this, and he continued to read on. "The rest of the letter just goes on about some article, and then something about – a fish."

"He likes fishing," supplied Narcissa.

Lucius raised a brow and slowly re-folded the letter. He replaced it in the envelope and set it aside.

"Do you want me to stop writing to him?" asked Narcissa. "I will… if you'd prefer it."

Lucius cleared his throat. "No, I see no reason for that."

Narcissa smiled, and she moved forward to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "You are a wonderful husband, love." And she meant it.

* * *

_**1987** _

_Dear Narcissa,_

_You are NOT going to believe this! So I told you before that Rebecca was pregnant, of course. But yesterday, we went to the midwife, and … Jesus, she's going to have TWINS._

_I am going to have a heart attack, Narcissa. Twins means two. There will be two babies. Good lord. What do I do? Ali is twelve! I haven't even held a baby in so long! Oh, and the midwife thinks they're both girls! GIRLS, NARCISSA._

_I am going to have to fight off twice the normal amount of boys…_

_Dear Algernon,_

_Oh, oh, oh! That is so exciting! Tell me their names as soon as you figure them out! I will absolutely have to make something for you and your new babies!_

_And you're going to do fine, don't worry. You don't even have to do the hard part. Rebecca is the one who has to carry two at the same time! You'd better be extra good to her. She's going to have a lot of strain on her body._

_Here, I'm sending with you this wonderful pillow I found at a shop in Diagon Alley. Give it to her and use it prop up her feet when they start to swell._

_Not to change the subject, but what are Ali's friends like? I swear, Draco has some of the stupidest friends I have ever seen. Do you remember Gregory Goyle from school? Well, his poor children split that man's one brain cell between them and it shows…_

"Lucius," said Narcissa, standing in the sitting room. "Where are the boys?"

Lucius glanced up briefly from the parchment he was reading. "They're outside, playing with Draco's new archery set."

Narcissa raised a brow, and together they peered out of the window. Outside, seven-year-old Draco was standing near a tree, an arrow knocked and his bow raised. Goyle was nearby, looking rather fearful. There was an apple on his head.

"Draco," Goyle called out. "Are you sure you can hit the apple?"

"Of course I can," said Draco, squinting with one eye closed.

Goyle trembled. "Do I have to be tied to the tree, though?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to aim!"

Narcissa looked back at Lucius with her arms folded. "Well? Aren't you going to do something?"

"Why should I?" asked Lucius. "Our son isn't the one who let himself get tied to a tree."

A thud sounded outside, followed by a high-pitched scream. Draco appeared at the window. "I DIDN'T DO IT!" he shrieked before running off.

Narcissa glared at Lucius, and he sighed. "Oh, very well then," he said, before stomping off to take Goyle to the hospital.

Again.

_Of course,_ continued Narcissa in the same letter,  _not all of Draco's friends are stupid. Some of them are just plain eerie…_

"Draco Malfoy!" admonished Narcissa, taking the bottle away from her seven-year-old son. "I told you not to play with that!"

"Mother!" scowled Draco, who was sitting across from his play-mate. "We were making pretend potions!"

"Well, you can't use this," said Narcissa firmly. "This is Moonseed, and it is very, very toxic if swallowed. Use the other bottles instead."

Draco made a face, but the little boy sitting across from him made no expression at all. Instead, Blaise Zabini simply turned his gaze back to their various ingredients and small children's cauldron. Narcissa began to walk away and leave them to play, but Draco hopped up and followed her.

"Mother," he said quietly, holding her arm. "Can Blaise stay the night?"

"Again, Draco?" she asked with a small laugh. "He's been here three nights already. Doesn't he miss his family?"

Draco bit his lip, and he leaned forward to whisper. "He doesn't want to go home. He says his step-father is mean to him."

Narcissa's brows furrowed. "Mean how?"

"I don't know," said Draco. "But he has marks on his arm."

"What kind of marks?" asked Narcissa, frowning now. Draco paused and then clamped his own hand on his upper-arm, looking concerned. Narcissa bit her lip and looked beyond Draco to his play-mate, who was listlessly moving around some bottles.

Narcissa cleared her throat a little. "Of course he can stay," she said at last, and Draco smiled before turning and bounding back to his friend. They resumed their play, but when Narcissa glanced at them one last time, she saw little Blaise watching her very closely.

He stayed one more night and then returned home after that.

The next day, when Narcissa went to the Potions cabinet to retrieve something, she saw that the Moonseed was missing again. Quite angry, she went and found Draco, who was sitting alone in his room with a lollipop in his mouth and a comic book in his lap.

"Draco," she said, hands on her hips. "I told you not to play with that Moonseed anymore!"

Draco pulled out his lollipop with a loud smack. "I'm not," he said, looking annoyed. He flipped a page and didn't look up at her.

"Well," said Narcissa, tapping her foot, "then where is it?"

Draco turned another page. "Blaise took it."

Narcissa stared. "What? Why on earth would he do that?" Draco merely shrugged, not looking up from his comic book. "Draco," said Narcissa more sternly. "Why would Blaise take my Moonseed?"

"IIIIIII DON'TTTTTT KNOOOOOOW, MOTHERRRRRRR," said Draco very loudly, before flipping another page. "Jeez. Leave me alone."

Narcissa pursed her lips before leaning over to flick his ear with a fingertip. Draco shrieked and fell over in his most dramatic fashion, and Narcissa left the room.

Three days later, Blaise Zabini's step-father died.

Narcissa and the other Malfoys attended the funeral, and from their seats, she could see Blaise's mother and sisters all lined up at the front. The mother was miserable, the girls were bored, and little Blaise – all the way at the end – was indifferent.

Or at least, he was until he somehow met Narcissa's gaze across the crowded room. When young Blaise looked at Narcissa, his eyes sharpened, and his lips quirked in a little smirk. It was gone almost as quickly as it had come, though, and Narcissa managed to convince herself she had imagined the whole thing.

She never did find her Moonseed, though.

* * *

_**1991** _

_Dear Algernon,_

_Draco is going to Hogwarts this year! I can't believe it. I am going to be lost without him at home. How did you cope? I mean, I know the girls are still just little babies… Did Faris get over her cough? I still love their names. Faris and Rose, what beauties! …_

_Dear Narcissa,_

_I'm sure Draco will be fine. I'm sorry, but it's hard to think right now. Do you remember when I told you Rebecca has been sick for the last few weeks?_

_We took her the healers last week, and today, they told us the news. She has cancer… and it's so far along. How could we have not known this? I'm trying to stay optimistic for her and the kids, but damn it, I'm scared…_

_What do I do?_

Narcissa stared down at her most recent letter from Iain, blinking back tears. This letter held the news she had been dreading.

Rebecca Stewart, Iain's wife, had died only six months after her diagnosis.

Narcissa put a hand over her mouth, tears falling at last. Iain's letter was short, and the handwriting was horrible. He had been crying and shaking as he'd written to her, she realized.

_I don't know what to do,_ he wrote to her.  _The girls are only three years old. Ali is helping the best he can, but he just lost his mother. My children just lost their mother, Narcissa…_

Breathing in sharply, Narcissa managed to gather herself and compose as comforting a reply as she could. She also told Iain she was going to immediately order catering to be sent to their house, so he would not have to worry about cooking. She asked if they needed gold, because she would send it immediately.

But Iain's replies in the weeks following Rebecca's death were short and stunted. After the first few, he stopped writing at all. His last letter, in October 1991, broke Narcissa's heart.

_I have no desire to do anything,_ Iain wrote to her.  _I can't even make myself get out of bed._

Narcissa had quickly replied, but Iain had sent nothing in return. Never before, in all their years of writing, had he gone more than three or four days without sending her a letter. Now, two months after Rebecca's death, Narcissa had not heard from him in weeks.

What could she do? Being so far away, how could she help?

She thought of going to him, or inviting him to come back to England, but now that Draco was in school, things had been happening… things that led Narcissa to believe that, try as Lucius might to hide it, stirrings of the Dark Lord's order were beginning again.

No, it was too dangerous to interact with Iain directly.

But she had to do  _something_! Iain was suffering!

So Narcissa thought long and hard about what to do. At last, she came up with a plan.

It took some arranging, and a lot of careful maneuvering on her part, but on the last day of October, Narcissa told Lucius she was leaving for a day to visit a friend, and she departed to Stirling, Scotland.

It took her a while to locate the house she was looking for, but when she came to the front door, she knew it was the right home. It was small, shabby, and poorly built, but there was an 'S' on the front door, and a small pond nearby. There was also a workshop several yards away.

Narcissa knocked on the door, shaking a little.

After a moment, the door opened to reveal a plump woman with auburn hair. She was wearing a Muggle dress with buttons, and she had an apron over the front of it. When she saw Narcissa, she frowned a little and eyed her with a careful amount of suspicion.

"Can I help you?" asked the woman in a thick Scottish lilt.

Narcissa knew she must have looked strange in her robes and cloak, the hood of which was pulled over her head. However, she put on the friendliest expression she could muster.

"Hello Mrs. Stewart," said Narcissa softly. "I am a friend of your son, Iain." She paused. "We … went to school together," she added meaningfully, and understanding shifted over the woman's face.

"Oh," said Mrs. Stewart. "Well… would you like to come in?"

"No thank you," said Narcissa. "This will be very quick, as it is rather urgent." She stepped closer. "Mrs. Stewart, your son needs you right now. It is very important."

Mrs. Stewart's eyes grew wide and glassy. "Is he alright?"

"He is unharmed," explained Narcissa. "But his wife passed away, and he is utterly alone with his three children."

"Oh no," said Mrs. Stewart, raising a hand to her heart. "But I … when Iain left, he said he couldn't tell me where he was goin'. He said – "

"I know," said Narcissa, shifting to look over her shoulder. "But I have hired for you a carriage that will take you right to his home. It is already paid for, and it will take you directly there and then, when you are ready, right back here to your house." Narcissa met the woman's gaze squarely. "However, you must not take anyone with you, and you cannot question Iain about the location of his home."

Mrs. Stewart peered at Narcissa long and hard. She was debating whether or not to trust her, Narcissa knew.

"Please," said Narcissa softly, reaching forward and touching Mrs. Stewart's hand. After a pause, she opened the other woman's fingers and deposited the small silver cross Iain had sent her into her palm. "Iain desperately needs his mother right now. He needs you."

Mrs. Stewart looked down at the cross, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She clutched the cross, but not before squeezing Narcissa's hand with her own.

"Aye," she said finally. "I'll go."

Narcissa let out a breath of relief, and she waited for Mrs. Stewart to pack a quick bag and then step into the carriage. Before Mrs. Stewart closed the door, she looked back at Narcissa.

"Thank you," she said.

"Just take care of him," murmured Narcissa in response. Then she stepped back and let the carriage go.

Two days later, back at her home in England, Narcissa received a Howler.

When she glanced up and saw it, she winced, knowing who it was from. Glad that Lucius was not home, Narcissa took the Howler and opened it.

Instantly, Iain's angry voice sounded throughout the room.

" _GOD DAMN IT, NARCISSA! WHY DID YOU SEND MY MOTHER HERE? I AM A GROWN MAN! I CAN TAKE OF_ _ **MYSELF**_ _!"_

Then the Howler burst into several pieces, and Narcissa flinched. "Obviously," she muttered darkly. However, she simply brushed herself off and ordered a house-elf to clean it up.

A week later, Narcissa received another message from Iain. Fortunately, this one was in the form of a very apologetic letter.

_Dear Narcissa,_

_I'm so sorry about the Howler. I am a complete and total mess. Having my mother here is helping a lot…_

_Dear Algernon,_

_I wasn't worried about the Howler. You always forgive me eventually…_

A few weeks later, Iain started writing regularly again. After some time – months, perhaps even a year – their letters returned much to normal.

During those years, too, Narcissa found out that the Dark Lord's return was now imminent. Terrified but resigned, she sent Iain a package.

In the package was a hollow book, one that matched Narcissa's own. In truth, it was more like a Portkey or a Vanishing Cabinet. Once Iain had his own book, he could place his letter to Narcissa inside and it would be instantly transported to Narcissa's, and vice versa. In this way, they could send letters to each other without fear of them being intercepted.

This was crucial, Narcissa told Iain in a letter, because there was bound to be another war, and he needed to know what was going on. Iain agreed, and so their letter-writing became less restricted. Narcissa was free, from that point on, to give Iain as much information as she felt he needed to stay safe. True, he was very far away from the fighting, but Narcissa still felt it was necessary to keep him updated.

During that time, she also helped him figure out how to parent on his own. Iain constantly asked for advice, because although he was the more experienced parent between the two of them, he was having a lot of trouble keeping up with three kids. Things were even harder when Ali was away at school, because that left Iain to care for his twin girls on his own.

Still, he managed with Narcissa's help, and they wrote to each other nearly every day, on and on and on, sharing as many of life's joys and troubles as they could…

* * *

_**1992** _

_Dear Narcissa,_

_You will not believe what Ali bloody did. So you know he's in his last year at school, right? Well, as it turns out, it won't be his last year, because in order to receive his certificate of completion, he's going to have to repeat his seventh year._

_Why, you ask? Oh, only because he's been failing two of his classes ALL TERM and hasn't bothered to tell me. I just don't get it!_

_Ali is smart! He is! He's just too damn occupied with girls is what it is. He always has been. I swear, that boy hasn't had a single thought that doesn't involve his dick since he was thirteen years old._

_Anyway, just wait until he sees what he has coming this summer. He think he's going spend the whole break sailing on the lake and messing around like he usually does, but let me tell you, that's not happening…_

_Dear Algernon,_

_Don't be so hard on poor Ali. I seem to remember you being quite distracted in school, too! Plenty of boys his age are preoccupied with girls. Even Draco has a little girlfriend now. Do you remember Sybil Parkinson? Well, it's her niece. She is absolutely hideous. I hope Draco moves on from her rather quickly…_

* * *

_**1993** _

_Dear Narcissa,_

_We got a new dog! It's the same breed as my old one, Angus. The girls absolutely love him. It's one more thing to take care of around here, but it's worth it. I hadn't realized how much I missed having a dog until now. I let Rose name him, which was a mistake because she just called him Hund, which is Swedish for 'dog.' So now we have a dog named Dog. That's what you get when you let a five-year-old take the reins, though…_

_Dear Algernon,_

_That is absolutely precious, and you should tell Rose she did a marvelous job. I had a house-elf Lucius gave me that was something of a pet, but Draco pushed it out of a window a few years ago. There are plenty of others here, of course, but I liked that one best. Perhaps I should get a bird or something…_

* * *

_**1994** _

_Dear Narcissa,_

_I am so bloody ready to be done with this commission. I love building boats, but rich people just want me to build them mansions that float. I shouldn't complain, because I make a LOT of gold off these orders, but I like building boats because they connect people to the water! These bloody aristocrats don't even want to remember they're on the water. They just want luxury. Whatever floats their boat, though._

_(Sorry, that was a bad Dad joke)…_

_Dear Algernon,_

_Oh, bloody hell. Hogwarts is bringing back the Triwizard Tournament, and that stupid Potter boy has gone and gotten himself nominated as the Hogwarts champion! And he's only a fourth year! I don't think Draco's ever going to stop complaining about it._

_Honestly, I suspect there are things going on that I am not privy to, but I'm afraid to ask… Make sure to stay where you are and keep a close eye on your family. I have a very bad feeling about this year…_

* * *

_**1995** _

_Dear Narcissa,_

_What in the hell is going on in England? I heard the Ministry is now involved at Hogwarts. What is that all about? Are things really getting that bad? And is it true that Diggory's boy got killed? Bloody hell, I can't imagine. I always liked Amos. He was my prefect while I was still there. Good man…_

_Dear Algernon,_

_Whatever you do, stay as far away from the UK as you can. The rumors are true. The Dark Lord has returned…_

_Dear Narcissa,_

_For the love of Merlin, please say you'll come here to Sweden if things get really bad. I know you're unlikely to do that, but remember that my home is always open to you and your family…_

_Dear Algernon,_

_Lucius has been arrested and sent to Azkaban. Draco is distraught. How is all of this happening to us again? I know what you are thinking. You are blaming Lucius. And perhaps that is fair… but I think it more than blind loyalty that motivates him this time._

_We are all so very afraid…_

* * *

_**1996** _

_Dear Narcissa,_

_Holy fucking hell. I saw on the news that the Brockdale and Millennium bridges were both destroyed by You-Know-Who. Thousands of Muggles drowned in the rivers. What the hell is Fudge doing over there? …_

_Dear Algernon,_

_It's even worse than you think. Amelia Bones, the head of the Magical Law Enforcement, was murdered last night. I'm sure Lucius might know the details of it, but I do not dare ask._ _Merlin, this is all so frightening. And Draco – my dear, sweet Draco –he is now forced to take on the Mark and do the Dark Lord's bidding in place of his father._

_I must do something. I must take care of my son… no matter the cost…_

* * *

_**1997** _

_Dear Narcissa,_

_Is it true…? I can't believe it. Do you know? …_

_Dear Algernon,_

_Yes, it is true. Albus Dumbledore is dead. Our world is in chaos. I have never been more afraid in my life… not for myself, but for my son._ _How can I protect him? What can I do?_

_Iain, if I do not write to you for a while, please do not worry. There are many dangerous things going on in my home… and I dare not risk you, too._

_Love always,_

_Narcissa_

* * *

_**May 1998** _

"You," came Voldemort's cold, high voice. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa trembled violently, but she gave a jerky nod in response to the Dark Lord's command. Feeling Bellatrix's wild eyes on her back, Narcissa edged forward across the dark forest floor. Strange sounds filtered through the branches, but none were so loud as the pounding of Narcissa's heart. She desperately wished to reach for Lucius, but she could not.

In front of her, face-down on the dirt, was Harry Potter.

Kneeling delicately on her knees, Narcissa reached up to touch his face. His eyes were closed, but Narcissa was determined to know for sure.  _Please_ , she prayed internally.  _Please be alive. If you are not, then all of this is over… and the world is lost._

She pressed a hand against the boy's chest.  _I need to find my son,_ she thought as tears threatened to blind her.  _Come on, Potter. I swear, if you are alive, I will carry you back to the castle myself! Please!_

But when Narcissa felt for Potter's pulse, there was nothing there.

The Boy Who Lived was dead.

Closing her eyes and doing her best to stifle her tears, Narcissa breathed in sharply and stood, turning to face Voldemort.

"He is dead, my lord."

The triumph began then, and it carried over to the castle, where a huge crowd of battling witches and wizards waited in their tense stalemate. There were those who tried to defy the Dark Lord even still – Neville Longbottom paid a rather graphic price for his stubbornness – and then Voldemort called forth the Mudblood and the blood-traitor.

Weasley and Granger were stricken down in mere moments while the rest of the gathered crowd watched in horror.

Finally, Narcissa and Lucius spotted their seventeen-year-old son standing amongst the other students, looking more terrified than they'd ever seen him.

"My lord," ventured Lucius in trembling tones, "our son…"

Voldemort, pleased in his victory, extended a hand. "Draco," he called, and Draco flinched from his spot in the crowd. At last, he came forward, crossing the empty space now littered with the bodies of Potter, Granger, and Weasley. With tears in his eyes, Draco allowed the Dark Lord to touch his shoulder as if in affection.

Then Lucius reached for Draco, and their boy hurried back to them. Narcissa wrapped him in her arms and closed her eyes tight.

"Tonight," declared Voldemort to the silent crowd, "a new world begins!"

"Come on, darling," whispered Narcissa to her son, stroking his face. "Let's go." Draco's beautiful grey eyes looked to her, haunted, and he nodded.

A little while later, the Malfoy family left… now the proud victors of The Battle of Hogwarts.


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note: Hi everyone! Get ready because we are about to blast through the events of  _The Sacred 28_.  **If you have not read _The Sacred 28_  and would like to know more about Draco and Ginny's story, I suggest you read that first, because otherwise you will be spoiled!** So, either go back and read that before continuing, or read on.

Also, I would like to nominate Joely Richardson (mostly as Catherine Parr in  _The Tudors_ ) as mid-forties Narcissa. I believe she fits the book-description of Narcissa much better than the actress who played her in the movies. So, if you want to see Narcissa as I see her, look up Joely Richardson as Catherine Parr.

* * *

_The second wizarding war had come to an end, but our suffering had not._

_Lucius never fully recovered from his time in Azkaban, I am sorry to say. That was not entirely his fault, but I could not help holding it against him. We were promised a glorious world upon victory, but instead, things only grew progressively worse._

_Our home became a waiting station for any Death Eater who cared to come by, and despite all our efforts during the war – Lucius and Draco's in particular – the Dark Lord never rewarded us with an improved status or better treatment. If anything, our reputations suffered even more._

_Bellatrix remained at the Dark Lord's side, even more fanatical than she'd been before her stay in Azkaban. She was now ignoring her husband Rodolphus entirely, openly declaring her love and devotion for the Dark Lord above all others. Another family of Blacks, distant cousins of mine, began to pour in from their secret coven in St. Petersburg, including their youngest boy, Damien Black._

_I needed to keep a close eye on him in particular, so I invited him to stay with us. He was up to something, I was sure of it._

_But with Lucius gone most days and my son wilting, I could do little more than observe others and bide my time. During those months after the war, our world changed drastically, just as promised, but it was not what we desired. The Ministry became oppressive, and new laws affected us all. We were being watched constantly, and there was no laughter in the streets, no light in the sky._

_I felt as if my entire world had collapsed in on itself, and I could do nothing but sort through the rubble in the hopes of finding something – anything – worth being happy over. Any hope that things would get better._

_But eight months after the fall of Harry Potter, our world remained bleak, broken, and barren._

* * *

_**February 1999** _

"You must be joking."

Lucius's eyes darted up to his wife's sharp features. "Why would I joke about such a thing, Narcissa?"

Narcissa rose from her spot and moved across the room she'd shared with her husband for some twenty years. Her eyes narrowed on him, and she felt her body go cold and rigid. "You mean to tell me," she hissed in disbelief, "that the Ministry is going to ask  _our son_ to watch after a prisoner of war? Hasn't he done enough, Lucius?"

Lucius straightened and met Narcissa's gaze. "Not just any prisoner of war," he admitted quietly. "Ginny Weasley."

Narcissa's jaw clenched. "Ginny …Weasley," she repeated numbly. Fingers lined with fine rings clenched at her sides. "You mean that little Weasley whore of Harry Potter's? And what on earth is Draco supposed to do with her? She's a wild animal! A blood-traitor! A – A  _Weasley_!"

"The Dark Lord expects Draco and all the others to civilize their captives," explained Lucius wearily, shifting away from Narcissa's heated glare. "The pure-blood prisoners have done their time, and now it is up to them to re-join society. We need them in order for things to improve. Draco is simply doing what many others are being asked to do – "

"He is a child!" snapped Narcissa.

"No, he isn't!" shouted Lucius in return, startling Narcissa but only for a moment. "He is a young man, and he has responsibilities, Narcissa. You cannot shelter him forever."

Angry tears filled Narcissa's eyes. "That girl is dangerous, Lucius," growled Narcissa. "You've seen what she can do. And now Draco's going to be expected to keep her here? It's madness! He has his own life to live, you know! He's eighteen years old, he should be – he should be hosting parties, making connections, going out with girls – " Narcissa froze, and her insides twisted. "Lucius…"

Her husband refused to meet her gaze.

"Lucius." Narcissa stomped around to look at his face. "You don't think the Dark Lord means to arrange them, do you?"

Lucius hesitated. It was all Narcissa needed, and her fury boiled over. "Absolutely not!" she screamed, tears spilling down her face. "No! Our son will have his choice, he will – he will find love and – "

Lucius rolled his eyes, but guilt read clearly over his features. "Narcissa, I don't know for certain what the Dark Lord plans, but – "

"- but if he ordered it." Narcissa locked eyes with him. "Then what?"

Lucius hunched his shoulders. He looked like a beaten husk of the man she had married. "If he ordered it..." repeated Lucius cautiously. "We would have no choice."

"You mean Draco would have no choice," said Narcissa, unable to keep the disgust out of her voice. "You mean he would be forced to make one of the most important decisions of his life based on the orders of that – that maniac!"

"Narcissa, keep your voice down!"

Narcissa lashed out with her wand, and an armoire exploded. "NO!" she screamed. "I am so bloody sick of this, Lucius! I am so bloody tired of having to make sacrifices, of worrying and crying and praying! I want Draco to have a good life! I want that for him!"

"He will," said Lucius vehemently. "He will have it! So long as the Dark Lord favors him – "

"But he doesn't favor him, Lucius! He never has and he never will! Draco isn't – he isn't made for this sort of life." Narcissa curled her hands near her heart. "He is sensitive, Lucius, he needs – he needs to get away from all this. He has a chance to be a – a normal teenager, and then a good man! And he won't be if he stays here!"

"He will be the most successful wizard in the whole country," argued Lucius flatly. "But only if you stop babying him. If the Dark Lord calls on him to do anything, he have to do it, and it will be for the best."

Narcissa's tears fell away, melted under the heat of her glare as she and Lucius locked gazes once more. They fell quiet for a few heartbeats, and Lucius had trouble keeping his eyes up under the weight of Narcissa's hard stare.

"This is all your fault," whispered Narcissa, hands curled at her side. Lucius looked away. "This," went on Narcissa more heatedly, "is all your FAULT! Why did you have to go back to him, Lucius? Why?"

"Because it is for the best!" snapped Lucius, now red in the face. "Don't you see what we've accomplished here? The Mudbloods are gone, Narcissa – "

" _WHO FUCKING CARES_?" she bellowed, startling them both.

Lucius's expression hardened. "You… You do not believe in our cause anymore, Narcissa?"

Narcissa bit the inside of her cheek very hard. "Of course I believe that Mudbloods are beneath us. But am I willing to sacrifice my entire family just to be rid of them? No." She looked squarely at Lucius's face. "Because I am not a selfish bastard."

Lucius's eyes widened. "I am not," he began, his voice trembling with emotion, "sacrificing my family. I am doing this  _for_  my family."

"Oh, really?" asked Narcissa with whining eyes. "How is your son doing, then, Lucius? Go down the corridor and take a look at him. Ask him when the last time he slept was, or the last thing he ate. Ask him how his friends are. Talk to him about all the great and wonderful opportunities he has. What do you think he will say?" Narcissa paced the floor and tossed out an arm. "He will not say anything, Lucius! Because he has nothing to report! He has no joy!"

Lucius swallowed, and Narcissa noted that he had least had the decency to look ashamed. "He is young," murmured Lucius. "But he will understand some day."

Narcissa put her hands on her hips and laughed bitterly. "So you truly think you have done the world a service, then… You can really look all around you and think this was a success?"

Lucius stared at her hard. "So long as the Mudbloods are gone," he said quietly, stiffly, "it was a success."

Narcissa blinked, unable to believe what he was saying. "You really hate Mudbloods more than you love your family?" she asked after a long pause.

Lucius's expression grimaced with pain. "You know I love my family," he answered shakily. "You know I do, Narcissa."

Tears filled Narcissa's eyes. "That wasn't what I asked," she murmured sadly. Turning away from Lucius, she sniffed and put her hand over her face. "Just get out of here. Please."

Lucius hesitated, but then he turned and left their room, shutting the door behind him.

Narcissa waited a few minutes to collect herself. Then, with another tearful, angry look at the door, she sat down with a quill and parchment.

_Dear Algernon,_

_Lucius told me today that the Ministry has decided to release some of the younger pure-blood prisoners into the custody of Death Eaters for "rehabilitation." Apparently, this is an attempt to integrate them back into society while still keeping a close eye on them. Whatever the case, the Ministry – or the Dark Lord, rather – has decided that Draco should have to watch after the youngest Weasley brat, Ginny. Yes, you read that correctly. On top of everything else my son has to deal with, now he is expected to keep up with a homicidal girl who's spent the better part of the last year locked in a dungeon._

_I swear, I am going to personally sink this entire island nation straight into the bloody ocean!_

_I believe the Dark Lord ultimately plans to arrange them in marriage. Lucius claims he is unsure, but I'm not an idiot. Draco and the girl are only one year apart in age. Why else would the Dark Lord put her here? But I'll be damned if I let that happen. Besides just being a Weasley, the girl is absolutely savage. And for the love of Merlin, would it be too bloody much to ask for my son to be able to pick his own bride?_

…

_Dear Narcissa,_

_Jesus, you've got to be kidding me. Isn't your son only eighteen? No offense to Draco, but giving an eighteen-year-old boy custody of an imprisoned teenage girl is just horrifying. What's the Ministry getting at? And what's this I'm hearing on the news about Regulators? What in the hell is a Regulator?_

_Now, about this Weasley girl. I remember Arthur and Molly from school, and they were very good people. I can't believe they'd raise a girl who's anything other than good at heart._ _**You be nice to her, Narcissa** _ _. I am counting on you and your kind mother's heart to remember that she is a_ _ child _ _who lost her entire family. Please, please, please don't make things any harder for her than they need to be. Be there for this girl. Care for her. It will make things better for everyone._

_Be on your guard, Narcissa. If the Ministry really is watching all the time, you've got to be careful. I know you're cleverer than them, but I don't want something to happen to you._

…

* * *

_**December 1999** _

"Darling."

Narcissa glanced up from her embroidery to see Lucius standing at the doorway, looking almost hesitant. The last several months had been tense between them, although they'd hidden it well from others. There had been little arguing, but even fewer words of comfort or tenderness.

Still, when Narcissa saw him standing there, she felt affection smooth over the scars on her heart. "Yes?"

Lucius came in and sat next to her. After a moment, he placed his hand over hers. "I have extended an invitation to someone for Christmas," he told her.

"Oh?" Narcissa set aside her work. "Who?"

Lucius paused. "Your sister, Andromeda. I asked her to join us Christmas morning."

Narcissa's lips parted in disbelief. "What? Why on earth would you do that?" she asked, recoiling. Lucius did not falter, though. He'd likely expected this reaction, and why shouldn't he? Narcissa hadn't seen her sister in over twenty years, not since her announcement of her marriage to Ted Tonks. Narcissa had not even set eyes on her in so long… but she did know Bellatrix had murdered her daughter, Nymphadora, leaving Andromeda to raise her grandson. Narcissa had not allowed herself to think on this very much, because she knew it would lead to pity and regret.

"I just thought," said Lucius softly, "that it would be a good time for you two to reconnect. After all, you were very close once. And you hardly have any others you trust."

Narcissa had many, many friends, but Lucius knew his wife well. Those women were not a comfort. They were useful and sometimes entertaining, but they were no true allies, no confidantes, as Andromeda had been so long ago.

Narcissa frowned. "Andromeda abandoned me," she told Lucius, shifting her eyes to her lap. "And I do not forget such things."

"I know," said Lucius. "But the war is over, and I think it is time you allowed her to try and make that up to you. You still care for her in your heart. I know you do." He paused before going on, "She was very excited when I spoke to her. She misses you, she said."

Narcissa made an irritated face and looked away, drumming her fingers on her knees. After a few moments, she asked, "Really? She said she misses me?"

"Yes," said Lucius patiently. "She wants to see you."

Narcissa huffed. "Well, of course she does. She's the one who messed up! She's the one who ought to be ashamed."

"She is," said Lucius. "I'm sure."

Narcissa wondered if Andromeda had actually said that. She doubted it. Likely, Lucius was just trying to appease her. Still.. for just a few seconds, Narcissa let herself remember what it had been like to have Andromeda on her side. She remembered, for a few painful moments, playing in their bedroom, sharing secrets at night, holding each other during storms, giggling about boys.

"Why do you want this?" asked Narcissa at last. "What do you care if she and I are close or not?"

Lucius's grey eyes, mirror images of her son's, flickered with something strange. "I just want you to have someone," he said vaguely. "Someone you care for."

"I don't need anyone else," said Narcissa primly. "I have Draco, and I have you, of course."

Lucius's lips quirked a little. "So you do still care for me?" he asked, more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him. Narcissa's entire countenance softened towards him.

"Of course I do," she murmured.

Lucius smiled a very small smile. "Then do this for me, please. Let Andromeda come to Christmas with us."

This all sounded very odd, but Narcissa simply made gave him a shrug. "We'll see," she said, leaning a little closer to Lucius before she picked up her work and began again.

* * *

_Dear Algernon,_

_Happy Christmas! I've sent all your gifts separately, they should be arriving soon. I hope the girls enjoy theirs. I had the most fun picking them. Faris still likes black and pink, right? Rose is always easy to shop for, but Faris is picky, I know. I don't hold it against her. I'm that way, too (as you well know). Ali's gift is with yours. I hope you both like them!_

_Oh, we had the most marvelous Christmas. Really, it was the nicest in a long while. You would not believe how much Draco has changed. The Weasley girl is still completely uncultured, of course, but she makes him so terribly happy. I think I knew he loved her before he even realized it. And I'm working on her, too, bit by bit. She'll be a proper witch soon enough. I got her lots of gifts for Christmas, I'll have you know, so don't go thinking she's being neglected! In fact, Draco positively spoils her. He got her this new broom for Christmas, I'm sure you'd know the model but I haven't the faintest idea. Anyway, they've been flying around non-stop and blasting my windows off the bloody hinges, but whatever makes Draco happy._

_My sister Andromeda came to Christmas, too. It was Lucius's idea. I'd planned on being somewhat nice to her, but it was difficult. I actually wasn't very nice at all, but I am still going to congratulate myself on simply being tolerant. We must reward ourselves for small victories, I suppose._

_Draco and Lucius are out for the day. They haven't spent time together in so long. I'm here with the girl. I suppose I should go now and make sure she hasn't set someone else on fire. Did I tell you she set Nott Sr. on fire? Draco claims it was him, but I know when he's lying. Don't worry, though. If you knew what Nott had been doing to that poor girl in his custody, you'd have murdered him, too. So in the end, it's for the better._

_Happy Christmas!_

_All the love,_

_Narcissa_

With a flourish, Narcissa signed her name on the parchment and then walked the letter over to her hollow book. Opening it, Narcissa placed the letter inside and closed the magical book so that the letter was transported to Iain's end. After that, Narcissa spent the day with Ginny until Lucius and Draco got home. They all had a nice dinner together, and after that, Lucius and Narcissa retired to their room.

Narcissa sat at her vanity and brushed her hair in front of the mirror, lost in thought, until a hand came and gently swept the hair back from her neck. Surprised at the tender motion, Narcissa turned and saw Lucius standing in front of her, his fingers reaching up to curl at the line of her jaw.

Without a word, he leaned down to Narcissa and caught her lips with his in a slow kiss. Narcissa's breath hitched, and she couldn't help but feel surprised. She and Lucius had remained affectionate and loving for a long time, but it had been quite a while since he had kissed her like that. They hadn't even made love in months.

Still, she did not resist when Lucius moved her over to the bed. He took his time undressing her, every movement loving and tender. Narcissa felt herself smile, and soon they were lost to the bedsheets, passionate as they hadn't been in years. When it was over, Lucius wrapped his arms around Narcissa and curled her close.

"My, my," murmured Narcissa teasingly. "What was all that about?"

"What?" asked Lucius with a small smirk. "I can't be loving towards my wife?" Narcissa shifted in the bed and curled against his chest, reveling in his warmth. She did not expect him to speak again, but he did. "I'm sorry, Narcissa," he whispered. Opening her eyes, Narcissa looked up at him, brows furrowed.

"For what, dear?"

Lucius traced her temple with a finger.

"For everything," he said softly. "For putting you and Draco in these positions. For making things harder than they should have been. We barely even got to enjoy being a family. Everything has always been overshadowed by war."

Narcissa's eyes lowered. "I – the entire war is not your fault, Lucius…"

Lucius's finger brushed over her lip. "It's alright," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "Things will get better, Narcissa. I truly believe that. Will you trust me?"

Narcissa looked over his face, silent for a few seconds. "Yes," she said at last. "I will trust you."

"Good," he whispered, and she could have sworn his voice cracked, though she couldn't imagine why he was so emotional. "I love you."

Narcissa felt her lips curl in a smile. "I love you, too, Lucius."

With that, her husband wrapped her tight in his arms and they fell asleep. The next morning, Narcissa awoke alone.

"Lucius?" she called out sleepily. Normally, she would not have been alarmed to awaken and find him gone, but something didn't feel right. Slipping out of bed and into the early morning light, Narcissa looked all around. Lucius's cane was gone, but his briefcase remained.

Brows furrowed, Narcissa wandered into the corridor. "Lucius?"

"Narcissa."

She turned sharply, but it was not Lucius she saw standing there. It was Damien Black, the young man she had invited to stay with them. He was nearly as close to the Dark Lord now as Bellatrix, and Narcissa did not like the way he watched her, even now, as a snake might watch a rabbit.

"I am afraid," said Damien, eyes glittering, "that your husband is not here. He is at St. Mungo's."

"Why?" asked Narcissa, her heart pounding.

Damien tilted his head. "He is dead, Narcissa."

"No," she said stiffly. "You are wrong."

So she put on her robes, grabbed her bag, and left. She travelled as fast as she could, ignoring any others in her path, every aching jolt of fear and anxiety that threatened to slow her down.

But in the end, she was too late. Damien had been telling the truth.

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy was dead. Of a sudden illness, they said. It was a lie, but Narcissa could do nothing to disprove it. She dared not.

Hours later, Narcissa came home in a daze. She wandered the snowy garden, which was now filled with bright morning light, having no real sense of direction or purpose. She stopped at the birdhouse Iain and his family had sent her so long ago, but even as she looked at it, she could not see it. Not really.

The wind blew on her face, but she did not feel it. The sun cast its warmth, but Narcissa shivered. Her fingers brushed pine needles, but she could not enjoy their crisp, clear scent. She could not conjure even an ounce of joy. There was none to be had.

There was only one thing Narcissa could be sure of now. Lucius had lied. Things were not going to get better.

They were only going to get worse.

* * *

_**March 2000** _

_Dear Algernon,_

_My son is getting married tomorrow! I'm not quite sure why he's rushing it so much. After all, he and Ginny only got engaged three months ago. Still, it was what they wanted. My intuition tells me they are up to something, but I haven't figured it out yet._

_I still can't believe my son is getting married. I'm happy that he is happy, but it seems like only yesterday that I held him in my arms. Just you wait, you'll be walking your girls down the aisle soon enough. When is Ali going to settle down, anyway? Is he still dating that Helen girl? I remember you didn't quite like her. He needs someone sensible, I know._

_Draco, I believe, is the sensible one of his union. He is going to have to spend the rest of his life putting out fires, I expect – some of them literal. Ah, well._

_At least I've managed to civilize the Weasley girl a bit… and she's actually quite pretty, when she has help. I'll never tell her that, of course, but she's passable. Not up to Draco's levels of attractiveness, but he could have done worse…_

_**April 2000** _

_Dear Algernon,_

_Draco and Ginny are definitely up to something. I'm not quite sure what it is, but they're doing their best to be covert about it. Little do they know, I see everything._

_Things have gotten even worse here in England. I am so very glad you are not here to see it. You would be ashamed. The war is over, but people are still disappearing all the time. Half-bloods are now tattooed with labels to differentiate them from the pure-bloods. I thought all this was about the Muggleborns, but now we're driving out the half-bloods, too. It's ridiculous!_

_I've even been picking up hints that the Dark Lord is now working to infiltrate the Muggle government. I knew he would never be satisfied with the Ministry of Magic._

_Fools, all of us, for letting this happen…_

_**August 2000** _

_Algernon,_

_I need your help._

_Ginny has just told me she and Draco are fighting against the Dark Lord. Even worse, she also revealed she is pregnant._

_The baby cannot stay here while they are preparing to fight the Dark Lord. It will make everyone far too vulnerable: them, the child, all of us._

_I do not want to ask you for asylum. I do not want to endanger you or your family. I do not want to involve you in a war that I tried so hard to keep you out of._

_But I must ask, for the sake of my son and his child. You offered your home to my family many times before. When the child is born, I will need to bring it somewhere and keep it safe while they continue to fight._

_Will you help us?_

_Narcissa,_

_You know damn well my answer to that. The sooner you get here, the better. Obviously you have to wait for your grandchild to be born, but I'll do everything in my power to be ready for you both. Just let me know, and I'll be waiting for you._

_Algernon_

_**January 2001** _

_Algernon,_

_My granddaughter is born! She came nearly eight weeks early, giving us all nothing short of a heart attack, but she is doing well. She and her mother are still at St. Mungo's, and Draco refuses to leave their sides, but all is relatively well._

_I can't believe it. She is absolutely precious. Her name is Athena Molly Malfoy, and I could not imagine a more perfect little girl. She looks SO like Draco! She does have that Weasley hair, though. Goodness._

_We had planned to take her away as soon as she was born, but with her being as premature as she is, we are going to wait. I know things are tense, and we should get moving soon, but I can't pressure Ginny and Draco to surrender her yet. She is very, very small, and she needs all the time with her mother she can get._

_I swear I will let you know as soon as possible when we will be arriving. Things are very uncertain here in England… We are going to need to leave as soon as possible._

_Have I mentioned that Athena is absolutely beautiful? Because she is!_

_All the love,_

_Narcissa_

_**March 2001** _

_Algernon,_

_Athena and I are leaving to join you tomorrow. I'm sorry I wasn't able to give you more notice, but something happened to Draco – I'm not sure what, but it was terrible for him – and now he can think of nothing but getting Athena out of England and to a place of safety._

_We will be leaving by carriage first thing tomorrow morning._

_I will see you then._

_All the love,_

_Narcissa_

Just as Narcissa placed her last letter to Iain in its hollow box, a knock came at her door. Narcissa looked up as Draco entered, looking somber. He closed the door behind him.

"You should get a good night's sleep," he said quietly, eyes shifting to a blank wall. "You'll have a long trip tomorrow."

"I know," said Narcissa, turning to face Draco as she waited for the real reason for his visit. How like his father he was.

"Mother," said Draco, looking directly at her. It took her breath away how grown he looked, how much of a man he was, when he'd been only a child just moments before, she was certain.

"Yes, son?"

Draco slid his hands into the pockets of his robes. "Who is this man you're going to?"

Narcissa walked up to a chair and held the back of it. "I told you, Draco. He's an old friend from school."

"Was he Father's friend, too?"

"No," admitted Narcissa. "Just mine."

"And you trust him that much," said Draco, his eyes sharp on her. "A man you claim you haven't seen in twenty years."

"I  _haven't_  seen him, Draco," said Narcissa, moving around the chair. "And I don't care for what you're implying." When Draco's eyes flickered, she knew she'd been correct. Stepping forward, Narcissa reached out and touched Draco's hand.

"Darling," she said. "It's not like that."

"So you never dated this man?" asked Draco. "You have no feelings for him at all?"

Narcissa hesitated, and Draco's features hardened. It had been a year, but the pain of his father's death was still too fresh, and she could see the hurt in his eyes. Quickly, she curled her hand around his and said firmly, "Now you listen to me, Draco Malfoy. I was never once unfaithful to your father. Not ever." She tugged him closer. "But I did have a life before I married him," she said softly.

Draco's jaw tightened, but he looked away, obviously trying to fight his anger.

"I loved your father so, so much, Draco," Narcissa told him earnestly. "You know it's true."

"But he's not here anymore," said Draco, looking up at his mother's face. "Is he?"

Narcissa dropped her hands and cleared her throat a little. She didn't know how to respond. Draco seemed to sense this, and for a moment, his misery seemed to overwhelm him. Unable to bear the thought, Narcissa reached forward and tugged him into her arms as she hadn't since he was a very little boy.

"Draco, my darling son," she whimpered, and she felt him shudder, as if he might cry. "I know you miss him. I miss him, too. But our main objective right now is keeping your precious daughter safe…"

"And you," he whispered. "I want you to be safe, too."

Narcissa's teary expression lifted in a small smile.

"I love you, Mother," he whispered.

Tears poured down Narcissa's face.

"I love you, too… light of my life, keeper of my heart."

* * *

The next morning, under an overcast sky, Narcissa and her sleeping granddaughter loaded up in a carriage as Draco and Ginny stood in the mist, agony etched into their features.

The good-byes were said. Tears were lost to rain. And then the carriage lifted up, high in the sky, with Narcissa and Athena board. Looking down at her son and daughter-in-law, Narcissa saw them curl against each other as they sobbed. She watched and watched until their tiny figures faded far below, and then Narcissa leaned against her plush carriage seat and cried, too.


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Note: It is time.

* * *

_As I flew to Sweden with Athena in my arms, I stared out of the carriage window and felt a dizzying flurry of emotions. I was terrified of being caught with my precious granddaughter in tow, and I was relieved to be leaving England. I was incredibly anxious for Draco and Ginny, and I felt a tremendous guilt for leaving them behind._

_But underneath all that, I felt a thrill of excitement, too. I was going to see Iain._

_What would it be like? And why should I still care quite so much?_

_Because I did. I knew it from the moment we were in the air; that, despite all my worries and anxieties, a small part of me was ready, too. Perhaps I had always been ready for this, waiting for an opportunity to take him up on his offer, the freedom to make that choice._

_I tried to push the thoughts away, but I could not help it. I indulged myself – just a little – in eager anticipation._

* * *

"Do I look old to you?"

When the three-month-old baby did not answer, Narcissa sighed softly and pulled out her compact mirror. The carriage raced on, flying over the countryside in a blur. The world outside was like a painting in motion, and the colors blended together seamlessly outside the square window. Each time Narcissa glanced out, she saw a different land. It was exhilarating, as it had been so long since she'd travelled, but she could not enjoy it.

"Really," continued Narcissa to baby Athena. "You should tell me if I do." She peered at her reflection in the compact mirror. Barely a wrinkle in sight. Ah, good. Smoothing back her white-blonde hair, Narcissa closed the compact and replaced it in her bag. She could not explain why she was so worried. She was still quite a beautiful woman, she was sure of it.

Not that it mattered.

Looking down at her hand, Narcissa lightly touched the stone on her wedding ring. She wore it still, even though Lucius had died a little more than a year before. Leaning back against the plush seat of the carriage, Narcissa turned her head to the baby, who was peering up at her curiously and babbling often. Reaching out, Narcissa drew a curled finger along the little girl's cheek with a soft, tender smile.

"Whatever the case," she murmured, "it is worth it all, just to keep you safe."

Still, Narcissa's mind had nothing to do but wander, and wander it did. She looked down at her hand again, fingers lingering near the ring. She'd been so angry to put it on the first time, right after she and Lucius had wed. She'd thought it ugly and terrible and binding. However, she'd come to love it over the years – just as she had come to love Lucius.

Sighing, Narcissa twisted it around on her finger but did not remove it. Finally, she left it alone.

After a while, Narcissa dozed off with baby Athena at her side. She only awoke when the carriage, after nearly all day in the air, began to descend. Narcissa blinked awake, and Athena began to whine and cry. Drawing the baby in to her arms, Narcissa peered out of the window and saw land appear through the clouds and spread out in all directions.

The sun was setting, she noticed.

Before she could register much else, the carriage slowed to a stop and landed on the ground, rolling a few feet before it came to a graceful stop. Her heart pounding, Narcissa leaned over and put Athena in her carrier. She hesitated for only a moment, and then she stood up, opening the door to the carriage and stepping out.

The first thing she noticed was a tall wooden house, and the plush green grass beneath her shoes. Then she shifted to see a silhouette standing in front of a sparkling blue lake. The figure was a man wearing Muggle clothes, and he was facing away from her, one arm raised with what appeared to be a coffee cup in hand.

Narcissa froze, unable to speak. The carriage had been nearly soundless in its entry, and for a few seconds, the man did not seem to know she was there.

Then he turned, and Narcissa found herself looking at Iain Stewart once more.

"Hello Narcissa," came his low voice, still in that same Scottish lilt. He smiled broadly.

Narcissa returned the smile before she'd even realized it, an uninhibited expression she hadn't planned. "Hello Iain," she replied softly.

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other.

_Oh no_ , thought Narcissa faintly. He was even more handsome than she remembered. The Iain Stewart in front of her was no longer a boyish teenager, but a grown man with a broad chest, thick arms, and big hands. He was wearing denim pants and a flannel shirt, casually rolled at the elbows, untucked of course. He had the same dark auburn hair as always, but the hair on his face – not quite a beard, but a nice thick five o'clock shadow – was redder. There were small creases at the corners of his eyes, and they made him look all the handsomer, all the wiser.

Finally, Iain's eyes flickered to the carriage, his lips still quirked. "Weren't you supposed to have someone with you?" he teased, and Narcissa was suddenly jarred back into reality.

"Oh, right," she said, flushing a little as she turned back to the carriage and reached inside. Iain walked over, still holding his coffee, as Narcissa pulled out Athena's carriage and shifted it so she could proudly display the beautiful baby inside. "Iain, this is my wonderful granddaughter, Athena. Athena, this is Iain."

Iain's smile broadened again, sudden and genuine, like always. "Oh, look at you, little one!" He reached out and let Athena wrap her little baby hand around his finger. "You are just one beautiful li'l lass, aren't you?" Athena coo'ed and babbled in delight, reaching her hands up for Iain immediately.

"Goodness," laughed Narcissa, feeling all the world's delight in a single moment. "She certainly likes you, doesn't she?"

Iain laughed. "I'll hold you in a moment, little one. First I'll just help Narcissa with – " he looked at the back of the carriage, where their trunks were. There were at least eight of them, and they were massive. Iain let out a wry chuckle, shaking his head. "I'll just… get my wand then."

Narcissa smirked. "What? You didn't expect me to travel light, did you?"

Leaning against the carriage with one shoulder, Iain sipped his coffee and looked over her face with unveiled pleasure. "Course not," he said, and Narcissa gave him a coy look before marching away from the carriage. Iain's chuckles followed her, and she smiled again to herself, doing her best to ignore the flutters in her heart.

* * *

Iain's home was exactly what Narcissa had always pictured, and more.

The house itself was a tall wooden home with many large windows and an exterior painted in a seafoam green. None of the windows seemed to have curtains on them, so the inside of the home was visible from many angles. As Iain had told Narcissa in his very first letter, the front door of the home was very close to the edge of a lake, perhaps no more than thirty paces. The lake itself was massive, a light blue pool that seemed to go one for miles and miles. Trees of all types and colors surrounded the water on all sides, only occasionally broken up by homes like Iain's. In front of the house was a tall tree with low-hanging branches and ample shade, and just beyond that there was a narrow wooden dock that started in the grass and led out into the water. At the end of the dock was a chair and a bucket. Beyond the large old tree and on the other side of the dock was a wooden gazebo littered with pine needles, and Narcissa remembered Iain telling her that he had built it himself many years before.

Near the dock floated three sailboats, two rather small and one much larger. There was also a structure that looked like the beginning of a large boat, and there were many tools and piles of supplies lying all around it.

Even as Narcissa paused to look out over the lake, she saw people sailing on the smooth blue water, swimming near the grassy banks, and pushing themselves along in canoes and kayaks. The sun was setting, and as Narcissa turned to go inside, she could not help but take one last glance at the water as it became awash in the warm colors of dusk. Never in her life had she seen anything so striking.

Once inside the home, Narcissa's lips turned up at another soft smile.

It was so very Iain, all of it. The house was two stories – or one and a half, rather. The bottom floor was one big open space, and to the left of the front door's entrance was the living room, where earth-toned furniture sat around a large area rug. There was a large magical stereo to one side, a few bookshelves filled with more knickknacks than books, pictures of the children along some shelves, and a massive brick fireplace with a large hearth. There were hand-stitched blankets folded up on the couch and well-worn throw pillows there as well. On the walls were also hooks and shelves for fishing poles and nets, and Narcissa saw to her amusement that some of the nets were just hanging on their own, strung along the walls like mesh. There were at least three tackle boxes she could see – she only knew that's what they were because she could see more fishing "things" inside of them – and several magazines, both Muggle and magical, about various things.

Directly ahead of the front door was both the dining area and the kitchen; that is, there was a dining table, large and round, with a single placement of flowers on it as well as some woven placemats. Beyond the dining table was a long kitchen counter against the wall, as well as a wood-burning stove and a sink. All the colors were blacks, browns, tans, and greens, with the occasional muted red or blue. There was also a white refrigerator at the end of the counter, and a few appliances that Narcissa did not recognize and could only assume were Muggle tools.

In fact, the entire house seemed to be a mix of magical and Muggle, which made perfect sense for a home belonging to Iain Stewart.

Off to the side of the dining area and kitchen was a little nook area with a recliner and a small shelf that actually contained books. There was also a door beyond that which Iain told her was one of the bathrooms.

The ceiling above this open area was very tall, and as Narcissa shifted, she understood why. The second floor of the home actually led off a walkway, which started at some stairs that pressed against the wall next to the kitchen. The walkway ran the entire length of the wall, and there were three doors leading off it. These were the bedrooms, Narcissa learned, and they were the only rooms on the second floor. There was another door at the end of the walkway, and it led to a small outdoor balcony that sat against the roof and faced the lake.

"Here," said Iain, levitating in just one of Narcissa's large trunks. "Let me show you where you'll be with Athena." He left the trunk on the first floor and led Narcissa up the stairs as she held Athena in her arms. He stopped at the very first door. "This was Ali's room before he moved out. The middle one belongs to the girls, and the last one at the end is mine." He opened the door.

Narcissa found herself smiling again.

The room was a big open space with sparse but comfortable looking furniture. The full-size bed sat off to the right, jutting out from the wall, and it had a canopy on it that Narcissa could tell had only recently been hung. It had a nice soft blue comforter on it, as well as a handmade quilt and several white pillows. There was a large window near the bed that looked out into the wooded area that surrounded Iain's home, and it was positively magical. Narcissa walked to it and looked out, seeing nothing but the beautiful darkening sky and its twinkling stars as they settled just above the tree line.

At the corner of the room was an antique dresser, and near that was a small matching vanity with a mirror. There was also a bathroom attached to the room.

In the last corner, Narcissa was delighted to see, was a crib.

"Oh, good," she breathed happily. "I wasn't sure if you'd have one."

"Aye," said Iain, looking proud. "This one belonged to the girls. I made it myself, and I'm happy to say it's still in damn good condition."

"It is a fine piece," said Narcissa with another smile she could not help. "Athena will love it, I'm sure." Turning to face him, she shifted Athena in her arms. "Thank you, Iain," she said softly. Unable to help herself, she reached out a hand and squeezed two of his fingers lightly. He curled his own in response.

"Of course," he said, meeting her eyes. It seemed there was more to say – and honestly, suddenly, it felt as if they both had more to say than they could possibly handle – but then Athena began to cry, and Narcissa remembered she needed to be fed.

"Go on," said Iain, clearing his throat. "I'll get the rest of your junk up here."

Narcissa quickly rolled her eyes at him. "None of it is  _junk_ , I'll have you know. I needed it all!"

"Sure you did, Narcissa," he said, in that same wry tone he'd used with her so many times. She giggled.

Narcissa then took Athena downstairs with something very near a bounce in her step. After getting her supplies, she sat in one of the dining room chairs and fed the baby while Iain got her things into her room. A little while later, Athena had been fed, and Iain pointed Narcissa to a rocking chair in the open living room. Narcissa moved into the chair and held Athena against her chest, so content to watch as the baby fussed just a little before falling asleep in her arms.

Iain took a seat on the couch next to the chair and watched, his lips quirked. They did not speak, and the house was quiet. Outside, natural sounds floated through the air and drifted through the house. Iain's front door was open, as were many of his windows, and Narcissa suspected they probably stayed that way most of the time. It was strangely peaceful, and the warm wind was soothing in a way Narcissa hadn't expected. From her spot in the rocking chair, which moved with soft, comforting creaks, she could even hear the water from the lake brushing up against the shore, and the stirring of tree branches.

"I love her so much," Narcissa told him, stroking Athena's hair. The baby was fast asleep.

"I have no doubt," Iain murmured, watching her.

"Draco and Ginny were devastated when we left," admitted Narcissa softly. There was no reason to speak so quietly, as Athena was a deep sleeper, but she felt strange disturbing the peace of the natural sounds. "My heart broke for them."

"I can't imagine anything harder to having to watch your newborn child leave," agreed Iain sympathetically, "especially knowing what you have ahead of you. Your son and his wife are very strong."

Narcissa's lips curled a little. "Yes," she agreed, before breathing in a deep breath. Her feet kicked a little continuously, keeping her rocking even though Athena was well into her slumber. "I knew they were planning something… but this. I cannot imagine… I do not know – " she stopped, her brows furrowing tightly. Her earlier happiness became weighted down by anxiety once more.

"What are they doing exactly?" asked Iain, leaning forward a little. "I didn't think it was safe to ask you in a letter."

"I'm not positive," admitted Narcissa. "Draco is working at the Ministry as the Muggleborn Hunter, essentially, but I'm fairly certain he's actually getting the Muggleborns to safety rather than killing them." She bit her lip. "And I think they have help, too. I can't be sure, but there must be others. They're not doing this all on their own." She sighed. "When I left, all he would tell me was – June. He said it would end in June." She shook her head. "I can't imagine why then – "

Iain shifted, looking thoughtful. "June," he repeated. "What happens in June, I wonder?"

"Draco's birthday is in June," volunteered Narcissa. "Perhaps that has something to do with it?"

"Maybe." Iain's eyes flickered. "You know, come to think of it, that's when term ends at Hogwarts, isn't it? June?"

Narcissa paused her rocking, her eyes wide. "Oh, Merlin," she murmured. "That must be what it is. The school has been one of the Dark Lord's biggest projects. It must be that Draco and his group plan to attack him there. And that's where Damien is, too." Suddenly feeling faint, Narcissa stood away from the rocker and bent down, placing the sleeping baby in her carrier before putting a hand over her mouth. Iain stood, too.

"By Merlin," she whispered, her eyes suddenly filling with tears as Iain came to stand in front of her. "Oh, Iain. They're really going to fight them. My son, my boy…" Her voice cracked, and she pressed both hands over her face. Panic began to consume her in a sudden, vitriol attack. "Iain," she gasped, and she let out a sob. "I left him there! I left my son in England to fight that – that monster."

In mere moments, Narcissa found herself wrapped in Iain's arms. "Shh," he comforted. "You did what you needed to in order to keep his daughter safe."

"But I left him," sobbed Narcissa as quietly as she could. She tried to be mindful of the baby, but she felt as if her chest was collapsing. She had really done it. She had gone and left Draco in England to face that maniac, and oh Merlin, what kind of mother was she? "I left him to fight this awful war! And he's been through so much already, Iain."

"Your son is brave," Iain told her vehemently, reaching up to sweep a lock of hair back from Narcissa's face. "He and Ginny both. And they're going to be successful, Narcissa. They're going to win. I can feel it in my heart, I swear." Then he pulled her to him again, and Narcissa tucked her face into his warm front and the soft cotton of his Muggle shirt. After a few minutes, her panic subsided a little and Iain reached up, brushing away her remaining tears with a curled finger. "Why don't you go to bed and rest, aye? You've had a long day."

"I'm not sure I can sleep," admitted Narcissa weakly.

"Try," advised Iain gently. "Drink some milk if you'd like," he added with a soft teasing smile.

Narcissa's eyes flickered, and she gave him a tiny smile in response. "Alright," she agreed quietly.

"When you wake up," he promised her, "I'll make you breakfast, and I promise you'll feel better."

"You always think food solves everything," Narcissa murmured with a watery chuckle.

"Does it not?" asked Iain rhetorically, giving her a grin.

Rolling her eyes, Narcissa scooped up baby Athena and walked her up the stairs to their room. Once inside, Narcissa placed her in the crib and stroked her face one more time before she pulled off her robes, let down her long hair, and climbed into bed. The sheets felt cool and crisp, and Narcissa kept the window open – though she never, ever did that at home – so that the night breeze rolled over her in comforting waves. The night noises followed her into the semi-darkness of her bed, and Narcissa closed her eyes and listened to them intently, as if they could tell her something entirely new.

* * *

The next morning, Narcissa awoke.

She might have imagined she'd be confused waking up in a new place after so long at the manor, but when she opened her eyes, she didn't feel confused or alarmed at all. In fact, she felt strangely content. Rising up from the bed and pulling her light robe on over her nightdress, Narcissa checked to see Athena was still asleep and then left the room.

The entire house was bright with early morning light, and Narcissa took a moment to observe it from the high walkway. Then something met her ears, and she shifted, her brows furrowed.

There was music playing.

_Is that really…?_ She thought, wandering down the walkway until she came to the door that led to the outside balcony. Pushing open the glass doors, Narcissa stepped outside. The music, which was coming from a stereo outside, rose up to meet her.

_Oh yeah, I – I tell you somethin' I think you'll understand. When I – say that somethin' – I want to hold your ha-a-a-a-a-and!_

And there was Iain Stewart, walking along the high rail of an half-finished boat, singing along every word.

" _And please, say to me, you'll let me hold your ha-a-a-and_!" At the same time, he jumped off one board and landed on another, his wand in one hand and a fistful of nails in the other. He flicked his wand, and a tape measure jumped up and stretched out. " _And when I touch you, I feel happy – inside! It's such a feeling that my love – I can't hide! I can't hide! I can't h-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-de!"_

Narcissa leaned against the balcony railing, absolutely entranced. Memories raced through her mind.

Iain flicked his wand again, and the measuring tape zipped back into place. Then he tossed out all the nails at once, and with a casual wave of his wand, Iain directed them all directly into the wood in one quick snap.

Then Iain looked up and spotted Narcissa watching him from the balcony. He grinned.

Narcissa flushed furiously and hurried away from the balcony, back inside. Once more in her room, Narcissa quickly showered, keeping an ear out for Athena, and then she got dressed. Strangely enough, she felt odd wearing her normal robes – which were always rather more formal than most people wore at home – at Iain's house. She felt they looked terribly out of place, but what else could she do? She put them anyway, and then twisted her hair up in the elegant bun she normally wore. After that, she woke up Athena and brought her downstairs to take her bottle.

Athena was a very happy baby nearly all the time, but she especially liked mornings. As Narcissa sat down with her, Iain entered from outside, already flushed from his work. "Good morning," said Narcissa with a secret smile, making certain not to look up from Athena.

"Morn," he said happily, and she barely kept from beaming at the once-familiar greeting. How many times had he walked into Potions all those years ago and greeted her the exact same way?

Instantly, Iain got to work cooking up breakfast for them while Narcissa tended to the baby. A few minutes later, he set a plate of eggs, toast and peppermint tea in front of Narcissa. He took some food and a cup of coffee for himself.

"Working already?" she asked. "Someone finally learned how to get up early."

"It's way easier to work before it gets hot," he explained. "I learned that the hard way. Besides, I wanted to get some stuff done early. I need to go to the market. I have very little in the house, so far as groceries and things go."

"I'm sorry we had to come so suddenly," said Narcissa apologetically. Athena finished her bottle, and she set it aside. "I still don't know what caused Draco's sudden change in attitude, but it made him quite miserable."

"It's not problem," said Iain easily, smiling at Athena and teasing her with a finger. "I just don't keep much around here. I kind of subsist on sandwiches when it's just me."

"Goodness," said Narcissa with an eyeroll. "Well, then, it's a good thing I'm here, isn't it?"

"Sure," he said with a smirk.

"I should go with you," said Narcissa. "I mean, both of us. There are some things I forgot to pack."

"Seriously, Narcissa?" asked Iain, causing her to have a wild sense of deja-vu. "You brought more stuff than can even fit in your room. What could you possibly have forgotten?"

Narcissa bit her lip before admitting sheepishly, "Toothpaste."

Iain stared at her before he burst out laughing. "Only you, Narcissa." His eyes flickered over her face, before taking on a more serious expression. "Don't you think it's dangerous, though? For you to be going out? We can't let anyone know you're here."

"Oh, I've thought of that," she said. Reaching in her pocket, she pulled out a necklace with a coiled charm at the end. "This is something from deep within the vaults of Malfoy Manor. It's called a Cloaking Necklace. When I put it on, it renders my face unrecognizable. See, watch." Narcissa slipped the necklace on, and Iain's eyes widened. He laughed a little, tilting his head.

"That's so strange. It's like you… put on a mask or something," he said.

Narcissa smirked and pulled it off. "But," she said, "if I take a drop of your blood and put it in the necklace, then you'll be able to recognize me fine. Anyone else, however, will only see a strange and unfamiliar face. Even my own son wouldn't recognize me with this on. Here, hold out your hand."

Iain extended a palm to her, and Narcissa pricked his finger with a pin from her hair. "Ow," he said dully. "Thanks for the warning."

"Oh, don't be a baby." Narcissa dropped some of his blood into a small circle on the necklace, and then she shut the necklace again with a click. Once more, she looped it around her neck.

Iain smiled, pulling back his hand. "There's your face," he said with clear affection. Narcissa's cheeks colored a little and she smiled.

"See? It works perfectly."

"So how illegal is that thing?" asked Iain curiously.

"Very," said Narcissa primly. "One of the many items the Malfoys have been holding on to for years, outside of the Ministry's knowledge." She tucked the necklace into her robes. "And anyway, I want to see some of the areas around here. It's alright if Athena and I go with you, isn't it?"

"Of course," he said. "It's just a small area we're going to, though. It isn't the main shopping district for magical Sweden. That place is up in Östersund, and it's really busy. I only go there when I have to. We have a local place here just beyond the Muggle streets."

"Will you take me to see it someday? Östersund?" asked Narcissa, excited at the thought. "I would love to visit."

"Definitely," he promised her. "Come on, let's get going."

Iain grabbed up Athena's baby bag, not at all averse to carrying it over his shoulder, and then he led Narcissa and Athena outside, closing his front door behind him. "Oh," said Narcissa, pausing with furrowed brows, "How are we going to get there? I don't like Apparating with the baby."

"We won't Apparate," Iain said easily, leading her around to the other side of the house. "We're driving."

He stopped and appreciated Narcissa's look of absolute panic for a few seconds before he touched her arm. "Come on, Narcissa. It's perfectly safe."

What sat in front of Iain and Narcissa was one of those – Muggle carriage  _things_ , one of those – what was it called? – automachines?

"This," said Iain proudly, "is a 1971 Corvette, and I just might love it than I love my children." He paused. "I'm kidding, but only a little." He looked over the strange machine. "I bought it a few years ago and restored it myself. Isn't it great?"

Narcissa kept very far from it, clutching Athena. "So it's… it's like a carriage, right?" she asked faintly.

"Yes," said Iain with a grin. "It is like a carriage."

Narcissa was not convinced, and Iain chuckled before stepping forward and gently prying one of her hands off Athena so he could lead her to the car with it. "Really, Narcissa. I promise I know what I'm doing."

"Where are the horses?" Narcissa couldn't help but ask. "The thestrals or – something else?"

"Under here," he said, tapping the hood.

Narcissa raised a brow. She did not believe him.

Iain laughed. "Would it make you feel better to know that I've got it charmed and spelled? All my own work." He waved his wand, and the seats in the open-topped vehicle extended, revealing another row of seating behind it. There was also a seat like the baby carrier in it. "Look, I even put in a car seat. That's where Athena will sit."

It did actually make Narcissa feel better to know it was at least a little magical. She edged closer, reaching out and touching the strange metal door. It was a nice soft blue color. She liked that much, at least.

"I don't know, Iain," she said apprehensively.

"Narcissa," he said, taking her hand again. "I've been driving since I was sixteen. I promise, you'll be safe. Like I said, I've done a ton of work on it myself. It's got every Muggle safety device  _and_  every magical one I could think of."

It was Iain's eyes that finally won her over, and Narcissa huffed a little but nodded. "Oh, alright," she said at last, and she let Iain show her how to buckle Athena into the carseat. Athena did not care for the carseat at all, but no babies really did, Iain explained to her. After that, he opened the door for Narcissa and slid into the front seat, which was filled with shiny gadgets and gauges. Iain dropped into the driver's side.

"Here, put on your seatbelt," he told her. Narcissa raised a brow, so Iain snickered and leaned over, securing the belt over her. "Ready?"

"No," admitted Narcissa, sounding squeakier than she would have liked. She was a Malfoy, for goodness sake, and a grown woman. Still, she was absolutely terrified.

"Just relax," he soothed, and then he shifted the gear into drive and they were on their way.

At first, Narcissa could scarcely breathe, and Narcissa clutched her seat in a terror even though they were going pretty slow. Iain seemed to know what he was doing – in fact, he was downright casual about it – but Narcissa still felt there was no way she could trust a Muggle machine.

She kept glancing back at Athena to make sure she was alright, but the little baby was now very happy in her spot, batting at the wind as it rolled over them. "I'm going slow," Iain reassured her.

They drove on, leaving the thick line of trees that surrounded the lake and pulling out onto a paved road. After just a few minutes, the car emerged from the wooded area and Narcissa saw they were now driving along the wide open lake. She could not help but gasp a little. The land surrounding them was absolutely beautiful.

To their left was a tall wall of jagged rock, and on the other was the sparkling surface of the massive lake. The car turned, and Narcissa looked ahead to see they were driving down a road that seemed to split two mountains, both covered in trees and houses climbing high in the sky. The air felt warm and thrilling, and Narcissa finally let herself breathe a little. The wind rushed by them, not too harsh as Iain was going at a rather leisurely pace, but nice and languid. Bit by bit, Narcissa relaxed, and she drank in the sights all around her. Lifting her hand, she let herself smile as the air pushed her fingers up and down. Loose strands of hair fell from her elegant up-do and blew away from her face. More than once, she caught Iain watching her.

Normally, a family like the Malfoys would have seen places like this a dozen times over. Perhaps Lucius had. Narcissa, though, had been so often embroiled in war that she'd rarely had the time or inclination to leave England. Even when Draco had been young and the Dark Lord had been gone, she'd been too afraid to take him anywhere, terrified of what might happen to him.

As a result, all of this was marvelously new to Narcissa.

Leaning back against the seat, she finally exhaled, letting a reluctant smile take over her features. She glanced over to see Iain was watching her carefully, and she pursed her lips so he wouldn't see her smile.

"Stupid Muggle carriage," she muttered, and Iain chuckled.

"Okay, Narcissa," he said in his usual tone, that one that meant –  _whatever you say._

Soon, the car slowed even more because they were pulling into a town. Here, Narcissa saw even more new things. The city they came to was a port town, and beyond the many rows of colorful buildings and waiting boats, Narcissa could see the ocean. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

"This city is called Linköping," Iain told her, and Narcissa turned back to him.

"Link – " she tried, and Iain grinned at her, repeating the name with an accent she couldn't replicate.

"You'll get it," he told her confidently, and Narcissa smiled before looking back at the city. Oh, it was absolutely remarkable.

"Look at all the boats," she said, leaning over the car door and peering at all the piers and docks. "Are these all Muggle vessels?"

"Here they are, aye," said Iain, pulling the car around a corner and moving into a parking spot. "But there are wizard boats hidden on the other side. I'll show you in a minute."

"Do you work on both?" asked Narcissa. She couldn't remember if he'd ever said.

"I do," he told her, getting out and unbuckling Athena's carseat. Narcissa almost got tangled in her seatbelt, but she managed and got out of the car. "I mostly just help with repairs, though, when I have the time."

Iain brought Athena up into his arms and beamed at her, pulling her close and snuggling her cheek. Athena giggled wildly in delight; she already loved Iain very much, Narcissa could see. Iain dropped his keys into the pocket of his Muggle pants and led Narcissa down the busy sidewalk.

The area was positively filled with Muggles, and Narcissa knew she looked a little odd in her robes. She had never been around this many Muggles at one time, though, even at the train station in London. It was an odd experience for her. Iain seemed to sense this and kept her close with a hand on the small of her back. Athena stayed in his other arm, babbling happily and trying to chew on his shirt with her little gummy jaws.

"This way," said Iain, leading Narcissa across the street of a busy outdoor market. There were all kinds of vendors and crafts, and even though it was a Muggle shopping area, Narcissa couldn't help but look. She paused instead, though, at a shop window and looked at an outfit on a mannequin. Her head tilted.

"Those almost look like robes," she pointed out to Iain.

He stopped and followed her gaze. "That's a dress," he told her, smiling. "It's – yeah, similar to robes. Mostly women wear them."

"Are they formal?" asked Narcissa curiously. She liked the look of that one there in the window.

"They can be," said Iain. "Or sometimes they're casual. It depends on the – " he paused. "Well, actually, I don't know what it depends on." He shrugged fruitlessly. "Some just are, and some aren't."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Well, it probably depends on the fabric, the style, the length – "

Iain shrugged again. "I have no idea, Narcissa. I'm not even wearing matching socks."

Giggling, Narcissa turned away from the window. "You're pitiful. Come on, then."

Together, they kept walking. The town was very large, with many tall buildings and the sharp roof of a cathedral jutting into the sky in the distance. The streets were lined with posts and other lights, and many of the buildings had bright colors and unusual architecture. There were also many lush green plants outside the windows, and a number of beautiful handmade instruments hanging in the windows. In the distance, Narcissa could hear music floating out of an open window. There was also the joint cry of a crowd coming from a stadium filled with lights, and Narcissa wondered if it was "football," the game she remembered Iain liked so much.

At last, the three magical folk came to a seemingly non-descript alleyway. Iain handed Athena to Narcissa and then marched forward, pulling out his wand. After waving it in a particular pattern, the empty alleyway shimmered and then re-formed as a tall brick-laced wall with a door in it. Stepping forward, Iain opened the door and motioned for Narcissa to enter.

She did so, and on the opposite side of the door, Narcissa emerged on to yet another ocean front street lined with shops and vendors. This one, however, was busy with witches and wizards.

Smiling in relief, Narcissa turned to look back at Iain, who caught up with her and lightly brushed her shoulder with his, almost as if in a tease. Together, they walked into the street and joined the other magical folk.

The bustling street had all the same stylings of the other parts of Linköping, but with a magical twist.

All around Narcissa, Swedish – and Danish, too, Iain explained – witches and wizards bustled around with their families, entering shops or working on the boats. Wizards on the docks hauled up nets of grindylows and plimpys, while some others stood on the docks and made trades with merpeople as they floated in the water. A young couple glided in on brooms and landed gently nearby, hauling the broomsticks to their shoulders before they continued on foot, chatting amicably in Swedish.

Turning, Iain directed Narcissa first to a shop with hanging hooks full of meat in the window. Once inside, Narcissa spotted a large humanoid creature behind the counter. He looked a bit like a troll, but much smaller, and when he shifted to yell something to one of his employees, Narcissa saw he had six arms operating all at once.

Iain greeted him jovially in Swedish, and the strange creature replied in kind, addressing Iain by name even as his two bottom arms continued to cut and hack at piles of meat. Iain spoke in rapid Swedish, gesturing to different things in the windows. The creature nodded, apparently making small talk as he continued about his work. He wrote up a ticket with his two top hands while the others continued to work, and Iain signed the ticket before handing over some gold.

The butcher then gestured to Narcissa, asking something in Swedish.

Iain glanced at Narcissa. "Oh," he said, "Hennes namn är – " and then he hesitated, before finishing with a mischievous grin, "… Helga."

Narcissa cut a glare in Iain's direction.  _Helga_? she mouthed furiously. Iain bit his lip to keep from laughing, especially when the nice butcher creature waved his arm and said in very pointed English, "Hello Helga!"

Narcissa gave a dull wave. As soon as they were out of the butcher shop, she thumped Iain in the arm.

"Ow!" He laughed and clutched his arm. "Sorry, I had to think of something on the spot! And you know, Helga Hufflepuff? Just came to me." He paused. "Then again, it's better than the first name I thought of for you."

"Dare I ask?" questioned Narcissa dryly.

Iain smirked. "Medusa." Narcissa glared furiously, and he went on, "You know… cause of the snakes?" And then he started laughing so hard that Narcissa held up a hand to his face and walked on haughtily.

She forgave him after a little while, and they went on to have lunch at a little café near the water. The threesome sat at a small round table under a tall yellow umbrella, and they watched the water and all its inhabitants as they went about their business, working and socializing and shopping. Different languages floated all around, and Narcissa could see strange items in shops, unfamiliar customs, gestures she did not recognize.

"What're you thinking about?" asked Iain curiously. He looked surreal next to her, real and in the flesh, his light freckles made all the more obvious by the way his skin had darkened from working outside. The wind stirred his hair and the open collar of his shirt, and his hands – the very first thing she had ever noticed about him – hovered near hers. She could touch them, if she wanted.

Narcissa's lips quirked a little. "Bellatrix, strangely enough." Iain's eyebrows lifted in surprise, and Narcissa continued. "After my last year at Hogwarts, when I – " she paused, unsure of how much she wanted to say, how much should be left for that conversation later on, the one she knew they'd have, " – when I came home," she went on at last, "she told me I couldn't survive on my own. She said I knew nothing of the world, and I was doomed to fail in it without her there to protect me."

Narcissa put her chin in her hand, her eyes on the brand new street, her eyes alert to the languages she did not understand. "She was half-right, at least. Even after all this time, I've learned little more than how to put on a mask." Her eyes turned to Iain. "I feel as if I know so little of the world."

And of herself, though she did not say that. The only thing Narcissa knew about herself for certain was that she would do whatever it took to keep her loved ones safe. What else was she capable of, if anything? She could not be sure, because she had never tried.

Iain settled his elbows on the table and observed her with a soft smile. It was not broad or mischievous like many of his others, but instead appreciative and thoughtful.

"What better time than the present, aye?" he asked, lips quirked. "The great thing about learning something new is that there's nothing stopping you from starting it now."

Narcissa's eyes moved up to his, and she smiled. "I suppose not," she agreed softly.

After that, they did some more shopping, getting things for the house – including Narcissa's toothpaste, which she had genuinely forgotten in her haste to leave England – and then they returned to Iain's home. Narcissa manage to enjoy the ride more fully this time, and she even leaned back comfortably in her seat and turned her head to the water as they passed, her eyes never leaving the fading afternoon sky.

Once they were back at the house, Iain prepared them a nice simple dinner, and then he and Narcissa walked with Athena along the banks of the lake. Iain took Athena in his arms and walked her to the end of the dock, excitedly showing her his fishing things (which she watched with an impressive level of focus, considering she was only three-months-old and unlikely to fish any time soon). When Iain leaned dangerously far over the edge of the dock with Athena in his arms, Narcissa huffed anxiously.

"Iain, be careful!"

"Oh, don't worry," he said dismissively. "I won't drop her. Not after what happened to Benny."

Narcissa gasped. "Who was Benny?"

Iain looked her dead in the eye. "My first son."

Narcissa clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. This lasted for about five seconds before Iain burst out laughing, and Narcissa thwapped him hard in the arm, causing him to laugh even harder before she pulled Athena out of his arms.

"Your baby holding privileges are revoked!"

She stomped off the dock, but Iain was still laughing, now on his back against the dock.

* * *

Later that night, when Narcissa had forgiven Iain (again) and Athena was settled in bed, they wandered together outside and took seats on a blanket under the tree near Iain's dock. The outside sounds fell over them again, and Narcissa let herself get wrapped up in the sensations. Iain settled next to her, quiet and speculative as they looked together at the stars. The soft soothing sounds of water filled the silence pleasantly.

It had been years since Narcissa had appreciated the night sky. Now, though, she felt absolutely spellbound by it. Iain looked too, his arm wrapped around an upraised knee.

Iain's eyes shifted to hers, painted in the cool greys and blues of night. "Should we head back inside?" came his soft voice.

Narcissa bit her lip. "In just a minute?"

Iain smiled and nodded, looking back at the sky. "Alright."


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Note: I started this chapter immediately after submitting the previous one because I was so excited to write it.

* * *

The next morning, Narcissa awoke just after dawn and rose immediately, too full of energy to stay in bed. Iain had been right the day before; Narcissa did not need to wait a single moment more to learn what she wanted of the world.

After all, what better time to move forward than when there was no turning back?

She was at a precipice in her life, and she refused to fall. Wrapping herself up in her house robe and leaving her hair down, Narcissa left the bedroom and stepped out onto the walkway.

When she peered down at the ground floor, she saw Iain was already awake. He was standing with his back to her, making scrambled eggs on the stove and whistling. Giggling to herself, Narcissa moved down the steps and came up behind him silently.

"Goodness," she said, reaching up and sweeping a hand through his auburn locks. "You should cut your hair before it starts getting in your – "

The man turned, and Narcissa's words stuck in her throat.

" … eyes," she finished at last, her lips parted in surprise. The person standing at the stove had not been Iain at all, but a much younger man who looked very much like him.

"Well, well," said the young man with a grin, "hello there."

Narcissa finally closed her mouth and let out an incredulous chuckle. "Good lord. Alisdair?"

"Ah," Ali Stewart said, "so you know who I am, but I don't know who you are." He gave her a flirtatious smile before adding, "Interesting."

Narcissa laughed a bit. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby," she told him.

"Bet I've grown since then," said Ali with a wink.

Goodness, he certainly had. In her mind's eye, Ali was still the little boy who was always falling out of trees or getting in trouble for pulling pranks. The young man in front of her now was around twenty-five years old and quite grown. However, Narcissa could now see that if she'd paid more attention, she wouldn't have mistaken him for Iain. Whereas Iain was tall and broad-shouldered, Ali was only a few inches taller than Narcissa and rather slim, barely bigger than Draco and much shorter. He did favor Iain very much in the face, though, and he had the same auburn hair – though it was longer and less neatly kept than Iain's, as Narcissa had noted.

Before anything more could be said, Iain's voice rang out from the walkway. "Ali!" he called out, coming down the steps. "What part of  _you live on your own_  do you not understand?"

Ali waved the frying pan he was holding. "I ran out of food!" He shot a devious look in Narcissa's direction. "Besides, I didn't know you had company," he added suggestively.

Narcissa flushed a little, and Iain rolled his eyes. "Ali, this is Narcissa. Narcissa, this is my oldest, Ali."

"Oooh," said Ali, buttering some toast. "So  _you're_  Narcissa." He shoved some bread in his mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly before saying sweetly, "Thanks for all the birthday and Christmas presents."

Narcissa smirked. "You're very welcome," she told him, before moving to take a seat at the kitchen table.

Iain started her some tea and made himself a cup of coffee as Ali loaded up his plate with eggs and took a seat with Narcissa at the table. "Dad never mentioned you were so beautiful," teased Ali, wiggling his eyebrows.

Narcissa rolled her eyes good naturedly while Iain turned around and said something scathing to Ali in Swedish. Ali laughed, shrugging innocently as Iain took a seat with them.

"Keep my hands to myself, he says," muttered Ali. "I'm not the one who goes around running my fingers through other people's hair."

"What?" asked Iain incredulously, looking to Narcissa, who flushed furiously.

"Oh, for goodness sake! I thought he was you!" defended Narcissa as both Iain and Ali started to laugh. "I was just telling him he needed a haircut."

Ali continued to eat, looking over Narcissa unabashedly before pointing with his fork. "You really do look young to be a grandmother," he pointed out.

Narcissa cocked her head haughtily. "Well, you are quite right. I  _am_  rather young to have grandchildren – being only thirty-six."

Iain choked on his coffee, and Narcissa shot him a narrow glare.

"Like hell you are thirty-six," Iain said with a laugh.

"Oh, you don't know how old I am!"

"Yes I do, Narcissa! We were in the same year in school!"

Narcissa whipped out her compact mirror and studied her reflection pointedly. "I was advanced for my age," she told him.

Iain rolled his eyes grandly. "By  _ten_  years, Narcissa?" he asked, before leaning forward. "So you mean to tell me that in our last year in school, you were …seven years old." When Narcissa merely raised an eyebrow, he went on, "Because if so, then I have some real concerns about some of my behavior."

Narcissa smirked. "Oh, well then perhaps next time you'll pay more attention."

Ali looked between them like a tennis spectator, grinning all the while. "This is fantastic," he said to no one in particular.

"And besides," went on Narcissa primly to them both, "it's not my fault my horny eighteen-year-old son got his wife pregnant in the first five minutes of being married." She closed her compact with a click. "Did I tell you," she said, "he got married in the  _woods_? Like a  _pilgrim_?"

Before either of the men could reply, Athena cried from upstairs. "Oh, the baby's awake!" Narcissa got up and went up the stairs.

Ali chuckled, still chewing on toast. "She's… interesting."

Iain took a long drink of his coffee. "Oh, you have no idea," he replied dryly.

A few minutes later, Narcissa came back downstairs and introduced Athena to Ali. Ali engaged the little baby with a delightful amount of enthusiasm. In that way, he was very much like his father. Iain was not at all above cooing and baby-talking, and Ali was apparently the same way.

Ali's attention shifted away from Athena when he saw Iain had his back turned. "Oh, he's not looking. Hey Narcissa, watch," Ali said. He crept away from Narcissa and sneaked close to Iain. Then, without warning, he launched himself off the ground and tackled Iain to the floor.

"Goodness!" exclaimed Narcissa, though she began to giggle when Iain rolled over and immediately wrestled Ali back.

"GETTING SLOW, OLD MAN!" shouted Ali.

The two grappled on the floor, and for just a moment, Narcissa tried to imagine Lucius and Draco doing something similar. The image was so ridiculous that she actually snorted.

On the floor, it seemed Ali had the advantage, but only for a minute. Then Iain shifted, hauled him up in his arms and tossed Ali over the back of the couch so that he hit the cushions and bounced right off, landing on the floor with a shriek.

Iain stood up, panting.

"Good lord, Iain!" admonished Narcissa with a laugh. "You could have hurt him!"

Iain put his hands on his hips breathlessly. "Nah, he's fine."

Ali suddenly leaped over the couch, but Iain darted out of the way just in time, and Ali landed on one of the dining room table chairs and knocked over about half a dozen other things on his way to the floor.

"Ahahaha," laughed Ali from the ground. "… Ow."

Iain leaned over him and grinned. "You actually going to work today?"

Ali sighed heavily from the floor. "I guess I'll have to, since I don't have any food at home." Iain held out a hand and Ali took it, letting himself get hauled off the floor. Narcissa noticed for the first time that he wore Muggle clothes like Iain did, but he had his wand tucked into his pocket.

"How on earth are you two alive?" asked Narcissa in wonder, and Ali smirked and shrugged.

After a few minutes, Iain and Ali gathered up their things and went outside to begin their work for that day. Narcissa fed Athena and played with her, and later on, she took her sweet baby granddaughter outside and sat on the warm grass under the cool breeze, watching the men work.

She quickly saw what Iain was always complaining about when it came to Ali. Each time Iain instructed him to do something, Ali would immediately attempt to use magic – only to sometimes get told to do it by hand. Iain liked the more precise tasks done without magic, Narcissa noticed. Ali disagreed, mostly because using magic was faster and a lot less work. He'd often grumble, get it done, and then as soon as Iain wasn't looking, he'd use his wand again.

Narcissa giggled to herself.

She couldn't blame Ali for preferring to use magic. Their work was rather grueling, and it was no wonder that Iain had stayed in such great shape all these years, doing what he did. Apparently, he'd gotten over his fear of heights – had that happened during the night with Corinne? She wasn't sure – because he seemed perfectly at ease walking the high skeletal planks of the unfinished boat, a hammer in one hand and his wand in the other. He had music playing again, this time a different band, and both he and Ali sang along.

By the time lunch came along, they were both pouring sweat, but Iain still came inside and made them all lunch. Narcissa watched, and she quickly thought about her new plan – to become more knowledgeable. In her mind, this meant becoming more self-sufficient as well.

She had spent her whole life being cared for. First by her sisters, then the staff and elves at Hogwarts, and finally by servants at the manor. She had never once been able to take full control, never once been allowed to learn things for herself.

Well, she decided, that ends now.

Jumping up from her place, she came to Iain's side where he stood near the refrigerator.

"You should let me help," she told him. "You're exhausted. You shouldn't have to come in here and make food for me."

"I don't mind," he told her easily, eating a sliced cucumber.

"I know," she said, smiling because she knew he was being sincere. "But this is the first time in my entire life I haven't had house-elves to do things for me. I should take advantage of this. I need to learn how to take care of myself." She paused. "And not just by telling other people what to do. I want to do it on my own."

Iain leaned against the counter and smiled. "Okay," he said at last. He glanced at the food. "But it'll have to wait until this evening, when I have more time. Until then, I can at least show you how to make your own tea, if you'd like."

Narcissa smiled. "Certainly."

Happily, Iain turned to the stove and showed her where the kettle and teabags were. The box of teabags were brand new, and when he opened them for her, she saw they were jasmine, honey lemon, peppermint, and lavender – all her favorites.

"Where's yours?" she asked, and Iain jabbed a finger in the direction of his coffee. "Oh no," said Narcissa. "Please tell me your family drinks tea."

"All coffee," he told her, and Narcissa touched a hand to her chest.

"Dishonor," she breathed, aghast.

"I'm sorry, Narcissa!" chuckled Iain. "We haven't lived in the UK in twenty years. I haven't had tea in forever."

Narcissa made a pot of tea with Iain's help, and then she sat down at the table and poured some for herself. She made Ali sample some – apparently, he had never even  _tried_  any – and he told her quite plainly that it was the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted.

"Look what you have done to your child," Narcissa told Iain, who snickered and shrugged, lips pursed with amusement.

They ate their lunch, and Ali played with Athena for a little while before Iain dragged him back outside.

Narcissa snuggled with Athena, taking delight in their bonding time, and then when Athena laid down for a nap, Narcissa picked up one of her books, curled up on a couch next to a big open window and listened to the soundtrack of Iain's front yard: the birds singing, the lake's gentle waves moving up on the shore, the music coming from Iain's radio outside, and the occasional sounds of hammers.

She hadn't expected it to be so peaceful here, so tranquil. She had never felt such an ease.

That evening, Iain came in, showered, and then Ali lounged around in the living room with Athena while Iain prepared to show Narcissa how to cook.

"Now, normally, I don't cook anything very complicated, but I wanted to show you a little salmon recipe," he told her, holding up a handwritten recipe book she suspected had been Rebecca's. It made her feel a pang of sadness – both for Iain's loss, and for the reminder of who had been there before her. Iain didn't seem to notice, and instead he laid out all the ingredients. He also showed Narcissa the various instruments they'd be using.

Narcissa quickly became embarrassed at just how little she knew. At first, she thought it was just because Iain was using Muggle instruments, but she quickly realized that many of them were common in wizarding households as well. She just didn't know them because she had never, ever been in a position to cook in her entire life.

When he showed her a "whisk," Narcissa almost gave up.

"I feel like I'm going to be terrible at this," she admitted in a small voice. She hated failing. The voice of Madam Rosier, faded but not gone, lingered in her mind.

"Cooking just takes practice, like anything else," Iain told her gently. "Besides, I think you'll be great at it. It's just like Potions, after all, and you were fantastic at that."

Narcissa blinked. She had never thought of it that way. "I  _was_  rather good at Potions," she agreed, smiling a little. "But then again, that was years ago…"

"I have faith in you," said Iain confidently. "And I'll be here. Now, grab those seasonings there and measure them out." Narcissa did as she was told. At first, she felt a little overwhelmed again, but then she remembered – just like Potions.

She wasn't a meek little mouse, and she wasn't an empty-headed girl. She could do this, and she would. For herself and for her loved ones. With this new resolve, Narcissa listened very carefully to Iain's instructions.

"What's this?" asked Narcissa. "Sugar?"

"No," said Iain. "Salt." He held it up, and for a moment, they were both transported back to that dungeons classroom all those years ago. They both burst out laughing, and Ali looked up from where he was lying on the couch with Athena on his chest. He rolled his eyes at them, smirking.

Suddenly, Narcissa found cooking quite enjoyable. Together, she and Iain worked side by side to finish the meal, and when it was all said and done, Narcissa couldn't have been more proud.

It was absolutely delicious.

Ali smiled and ate a forkful of food. "It's very good, Narcissa," he told her.

"Thank you, Ali," said Narcissa happily, before she added to Athena, "I helped make this."

Athena babbled in her chair and clapped her hands. After dinner, Iain made Ali clean the dishes – which he did with a wave of his wand, to Iain's annoyance – as he turned on the radio and listened to the nightly news, as it seemed he did every evening. The news was in Swedish, so Narcissa couldn't understand it, but Iain listened intently.

He scowled. "The Swedish magical government is meeting with the Ministry," he told Narcissa crossly. "The more countries that acknowledge You-Know-Who and his puppets, the more credibility and power they give him. They need to stand up to him and stop acting as though he's created a legitimate government."

"It's not that simple," said Narcissa, shaking her head. "They're afraid of him, too. Besides, if all the other magical governments just shut off communication with the Ministry, what would happen to the British people?"

Iain made a face, leaning against his kitchen table. He folded his arms, eyes looking serious. "Sometimes I think we shouldn't have left," he admitted to Narcissa quietly. Ali was hovering nearby, drinking out of a glass and pretending not to listen, though Narcissa suspected he was.

"Why on earth would you think that?" asked Narcissa, her brows furrowed.

"I don't know," groaned Iain, looking pained. "I just – Sometimes I feel like I should have stayed and fought for my country, you know, like my Pa did. When the Nazis were dropping bombs on us, my Pa didn't run away. He went to war. Maybe if more people had stayed behind and tried to stop You-Know-Who, he wouldn't have won. Me? I just – left. I abandoned my country to those crazy blood-purest fanatics."

Narcissa forgot Ali was nearby for a moment. "You didn't abandon your country, Iain," she told him softly. "I … I didn't give you much choice." She stepped closer. "I needed you gone for my own sake of mind as much as anything else."

There they was again. Words that were so dangerously close to that conversation, the one they hadn't had yet, but would eventually succumb to.

Iain gave her a small smile. "You just wanted me safe."

"And I knew you wouldn't be," went on Narcissa. "I knew if it came down to it, you would fight. And I didn't want that."

Iain's eyes flickered to hers, and his lips quirked. "You're right," he said. "I would have."

They looked at one another for a long moment, transported to that night so long ago.

The moment was broken by Ali, who cleared his throat. "I'm going to head home," he said, looking between them speculatively. Iain immediately backed away from Narcissa and nodded, giving Ali a hug before letting his son go. Ali waved to Narcissa and then departed, a strangely knowing look in his eyes. It was the same Iain often had.

* * *

The next few days were interesting for Narcissa, because she was able to settle in to a routine. Truth be told, she'd forgotten just how time-consuming caring for a very young baby was, and she was having to adjust. It was absolutely exhausting, and more often than not, Narcissa found herself waking up at all hours, feeding Athena or walking her around as she tried to soothe her back to sleep.

The first few times this happened, Narcissa awoke alone and paced the house, trying not to disturb Iain. Pretty quickly, though, he figured out what was going on, and he began staying up to help her. Some nights, while Narcissa prepared a bottle in the middle of the night, Iain would take Athena outside to a long swing hanging from a tree branch right next to the lake, and he'd rock with her.

This worked so well that sometimes Athena was asleep again before Narcissa had even finished her bottle, and Iain would stay there with her for a little while with Narcissa on the other end of the cushioned swing, dozing against her own arms just in case Athena woke up hungry again, as she sometimes did. However, most of the time Athena simply slept against Iain's broad chest in total contentment and peace.

All of this was even more impressive considering how much Iain did during the day, and Narcissa became even more determined to do as much for herself – and the others – as she could. After all, if there was one thing Narcissa could say about herself, it was that she truly enjoyed taking care of people.

So, whenever she had the time, she practiced cooking and baking, which she found interesting once her confidence had grown. She learned more about the Muggle appliances around the house – even the telephone, which Iain showed her how to use, much to her bewilderment – and she also practiced cleaning spells, which she had very little knowledge of before and wasn't very good at. One day she waved her wand to start the broom and accidentally burst every light-bulb in the house.

Iain had dragged his hands down his face with a groan. Then he'd spent the better part of a half-hour replacing them all, while Narcissa apologized sheepishly.

When she was not doing her best to be useful around the house or caring directly for Athena, Narcissa also tried her best to pick up on more Swedish. Part of becoming more culturally aware meant recognizing her complete ignorance of the language around her, so she found some of Ali's old study books and began learning letters and words, syntax and grammar. She asked both Ali and Iain to help her practice, and so they patiently spoke to her in slow and simple Swedish every day, teaching her conversation by conversation.

Ali was very helpful in this, as he had a much clearer accent than Iain. Even to her untrained ear, Iain's Swedish sounded quite different from Ali's. This only made sense, as Ali's English accent was different than Iain's, too. Ali's English accent was an absolutely unusual blend of the Queen's English, Swedish, and Scottish, and it amused Narcissa to no end to hear him talk. He was perfectly fluent in English, but there were times he'd say something that sounded so odd Narcissa would have to fight the urge to giggle.

He was very good at helping her with Swedish though, and he even went all around the house with her, labeling every single thing in the home he could think of with its Swedish translation, so whenever Narcissa used it – the door, the table, the couch – she would see the Swedish word there. It was tremendously helpful, and Narcissa appreciated it very much.

"You'd better get good," Iain told her teasingly one night. "The girls don't speak English as well as Ali does."

"Oh goodness," huffed Narcissa. She wanted to meet the girls so much, and she didn't want to have trouble communicating with them. "I need to keep studying! They'll be here next week for Easter, after all."

"You have a good accent," complimented Ali, "if that makes you feel any better."

Narcissa beamed, and Ali smiled back. Narcissa loved having Ali around, and he came by almost every day, sometimes working the whole day and other times rolling in around noon, clearly having just woken up.

Ali and Iain, Narcissa observed, had a complicated relationship. They were undoubtedly close, but they argued often, and although Narcissa didn't always understanding what they were arguing about because it blended between the two languages, she could guess well enough.

One afternoon, they both came banging into the house around four in the afternoon, and Iain was quite clearly irritated. Ali wasn't any happier.

"Well damn, I'm sorry I can't do things exactly like you want me to!" snapped Ali.

Iain scowled. "That's because you don't listen! You know Ali, one day you're going to have to get a real job, one that expects you to be there every single day and on time, and you're not going to know what to do with yourself because you have no discipline at all!"

Narcissa watched from the kitchen table where she had a cup of tea.

"Whatever, Dad," said Ali flatly, dropping his belt on the table with a clatter.

"Seriously, Ali, you know what I was doing when I was your age?" asked Iain.

Ali stopped and glared up at the ceiling. It was quite clear he'd heard this before.

"I had my own business," said Iain gruffly, "my own house, a family – "

"And I'll bet you walked ten miles in the snow both ways every day too, right?" asked Ali mockingly, and Iain glared at him.

"You need to grow up," snapped Iain, before stomping off and slamming the door behind him.

Meanwhile, Narcissa simply watched. Athena babbled happily from her baby rocker a few feet away, so Narcissa was free to remain at the table with her tea. Ali was still glaring at the wall, his jaw tight.

After a moment, Narcissa tilted her head. "I tried a lemon cake recipe today. Would you like some?"

Ali glanced at her and then fixed himself a glass of ice water. "No thanks," he muttered. When he turned to lean against the counter, Narcissa raised both brows at him, and Ali finally sighed, moving over and sitting at the coffee table with her. He immediately fell back in the chair, limp.

"You know," he said grimly, "I have never given my dad any reason to have such high expectations of me. And yet he always does." Ali shrugged, his eyes low. "Well, so be it. Let him be disappointed over and over and over again."

Narcissa curled her hands around the warm teacup. "Oh, Ali. Your father isn't disappointed in you at all. Don't think that."

"You weren't here when he found out I failed seventh year," said Ali flatly. "Merlin, you'd have thought I killed someone."

Narcissa's lips quirked. She remembered that letter. Iain had been in a fit. For a moment, she simply let Ali feel what he was feeling. Then she tilted her head at him.

"Ali, your father may not always be happy with you, but it isn't as though he doesn't love who you are. He just wants what's best for you." Ali merely huffed, so Narcissa went on, "And just so you know, you've given him plenty of reasons to have high expectations of you."

"Oh yeah?" asked Ali skeptically.

"Certainly," said Narcissa. "Like that time when you were nine, and you spent your whole Easter break teaching a little boy from across the lake how to swim." She smiled. "All your friends were busy sailing and playing, but you said you didn't want the little boy to be scared of the water anymore. Do you remember?"

Ali listened, his eyes low.

"Or," went on Narcissa, "how about all those times you had to write home for your parents to send you more Quidditch equipment, because you'd given yours to someone else who didn't have any? Or even that Quidditch match where you got hit by one of those – those horrible Bludger balls. All because you saw it coming, and your first instinct was to warn your teammate, rather than get out of the way yourself?"

Ali smiled a little, shifting in his chair.

Narcissa touched his arm. "But perhaps the most impressive thing you've ever done in your father's eyes… is care for your sisters." This time, Ali's eyes flickered with clear emotion. "After your mother passed," Narcissa continued softly, "your father wrote to me so many times, going on about how proud he was of you… of how he couldn't have gotten on without you, because you stepped up and became the other parent, even though you were suffering yourself."

Ali swallowed, his fingers twitching on the table.

Narcissa gave him a gentle smile, and he finally looked up. "I like to think that your father is very honest with me, Ali. And I can promise you, he's bragged on you more often than not. That's where his expectations come from. I promise, he sees the very best of you. He just wants you to be happy and cared for, that's all." She paused before going on hesitantly, "Also, don't forget that your father is the kindest person I know, but he has a smart mouth, too." She shrugged.

Ali chuckled weakly at this. "That's true," he conceded.

"And you share that smart mouth," Narcissa pointed out, and Ali's smirk grew. "So, try not to get angry at him."

Ali put his chin in both hands. "Can you tell  _him_  that?"

"I'll mention it," promised Narcissa with a wink.

A few minutes later, Iain came back out, having showered. Ali sighed and stood up, making a motion to leave. "Where're you going?" asked Iain, no longer sounding angry at all.

Ali shifted. "To go home."

"Before dinner?"

Ali dropped both hands incredulously. "You always tell me I should be taking care of myself!"

"Well, yeah," said Iain, blinking, "but I still want you to eat a decent meal."

Narcissa's lips quirked. "I did already portion out enough for three," she told Ali. He looked at her, his eyes flickering between her and Iain, who seemed to be quite disturbed by the idea of Ali leaving without eating dinner.

Finally, Ali smiled a little and rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, waving his hands. Then he picked up Athena out of her rocker and began to play with her while he listened to the radio. Iain watched for a few moments, and Narcissa smiled at the tender look on his face.

He was rather hard on Ali, but Narcissa knew her earlier words were true. Iain undoubtedly loved his son completely. Narcissa walked over and reached up, lightly tapping Iain's temple so that he looked her.

"Patience," was all she said, and Iain knew exactly what she meant, she could see it in his eyes. He smiled a little, looking both sheepish and exasperated, and then he helped her cook dinner.

That same evening, Narcissa managed to put Athena to bed rather early, and she poured herself and Iain a glass of wine each. Ali had left an hour before, and the house had grown cool and quiet. Outside, a misty rain started. It was not severe enough to close the windows, though Iain did shut the front door.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch in the living room, listening to the spray of rain droplets outside in the night air.

"I can't wait for the girls to come home," Narcissa told Iain earnestly. "I want to meet them so badly."

"Just a few more days," he told her, sipping at his own wine and reclining on his end of the couch. "They're going to be so excited to meet you."

Narcissa smiled. "What's the name of their school again? I know you didn't send them to Durmstrang."

"Oh, no," said Iain, shifting back further against the cushions. "No way would I send my kids to that Dark Arts-infested hole. The school they go to is a smaller one here in Sweden, called Nøkkenskola."

"Quite a name," remarked Narcissa.

Iain grinned. "A Nøkken is a magical shapeshifting lake creature. It lures people to thin ice so it can drag them down below the surface." He paused. "Come to think of it, I'm not sure why they'd name the school after it. But I didn't make the school, so."

Narcissa sipped at her wine. "What houses do you think your children would have been in? If they'd gone to Hogwarts?"

Iain hummed thoughtfully, holding his glass of wine and looking amused. "Well, Ali would definitely be a Gryffindor."

"Oh, for certain."

"And Faris … she'd be a Ravenclaw, I think. And Rose would be my Hufflepuff."

"No Slytherins, then?" asked Narcissa slyly.

Iain chuckled. "No, none of my children are sneaky enough. Or cunning, for that matter. They all lie about as well as I do, so they're really easy to catch." He looked over at Narcissa. Outside, a distance rumble of thunder sounded, and the smells of rain-covered grass floated through the house. "Cissa," he said, catching her off-guard for a moment, "Did the Sorting Hat immediately put you in Slytherin?"

Narcissa watched him very carefully. "No," she admitted, thinking on that day so long ago. "It considered another."

"Ravenclaw," supplied Iain knowingly, and Narcissa's lips curled at a smile.

"Yes," she said. "Ravenclaw." Her fingers curled on the wine glass. "And you? Did the Sorting Hat know you were a Hufflepuff the moment it came to you?"

Iain bit his lip, grinning a little. "It took its time," he said.

"Let me guess," went on Narcissa softly. "Gryffindor."

Iain's eyes met hers. "Tha's right."

More thunder rolled.

"I thought so," whispered Narcissa, her half-empty wine glass in hand. They did not look away from each other.

"Just think," murmured Iain. "Our paths could have been very different."

"Yes," agreed Narcissa.

The silence between them became heavy and full. Finally,  _finally_ , Narcissa asked.

"How long were you angry with me, Iain?"

She distinctly saw him swallow in response to her question, his eyes lowering. "A long time," he admitted in a low whisper. "Longer than I should have been." He shifted in his spot, and outside, the rain grew heavier. "And just when I thought I was getting over it," he went on, "you showed up at my doorstep." They locked eyes. "And I should have forgiven you then, because you helped us. But instead, I just got angry all over again."

"Why?" asked Narcissa very softly.

Iain looked directly at her. "Because I could see that you still loved me," he told her, and Narcissa's hand tightened on her wine glass. Her heart raced. Iain's eyes shifted to the side, looking glassy. "Which meant that someone… had frightened you – or threatened you into doing what you did."

Narcissa remained quiet for a long time. She took a drink of her wine, nearly finishing it. At last, she spoke.

"When I returned to England after sixth year," she told him quietly, "no one was waiting for me at the platform. By the time I finally got home, I saw that – Lord Voldemort was already in my house." Her eyes flickered to his face, and Iain's eyes were wide. "Bellatrix had invited him there," Narcissa told him. Her voice grew small. "That night, I watched Abraxas Malfoy murder my father in our dining room."

Iain's gaze shifted down to his lap again, his eyes sad but his body tense.

"And then I found out Bellatrix had promised me to Lucius Malfoy," Narcissa continued. "She acted as though she was doing it for me, but I knew what she really wanted. A spy. She wanted to make sure the Malfoys did not overtake us."

It had all been so long ago, and it had been years since Narcissa had thought to be sad about it. Now, though, she felt her throat tighten, as if she might cry.

"I thought about running away. I even packed a bag. But I was so afraid, and Bellatrix had me so convinced that I would fail." Narcissa breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. "I decided that as soon as I went back to King's Cross, I would leave and find you instead. I was determined." She bit her lip. "But then…"

"You never got to go back to school," finished Iain.

"Right," whispered Narcissa.

Iain exhaled slowly. "Why didn't you just tell me, Narcissa?"

She smiled sadly. "What would you have done, Iain?"

"Come after you," he told her.

Narcissa's fingers curled on the wine glass. "Precisely."

Iain's lips quirked sadly. He knew, being older and wiser now, that he would have just been killed. The very same thing Narcissa had known then. For a long time after that, Narcissa and Iain remained quiet, listening to the sounds of the rain.

Then Iain said, almost lightly, "Can you imagine if we'd really done it?" Narcissa looked over at him in surprise. "If we'd really run off together when we were seventeen?" he asked, grinning a bit.

Narcissa felt her heart lift. "We would have been a complete mess," she said, and Iain began to laugh.

"Oh, god," he groaned, leaning back and pushing a hand over his face. "Seventeen is so young! I would have been a  _horrible_  husband. I mean, I would have tried my hardest, don't get me wrong. But it would have been terrible for you."

Narcissa began to laugh fully as well. "I was a hundred times more useless at seventeen than I am now," she said, giggling. "We'd have certainly starved. And if you think I would have cleaned back then, you're very wrong. I'd have fainted, first."

They both began to laugh again, and Narcissa felt the tension – so many years in the making – fade away and then vanish.

Narcissa inhaled deeply, shaking her head, her lips still pursed in a smile. "If it makes you feel any better, Lucius never… abused me or mistreated me. He ignored me for a long time, because he was still in love with Corinne. I didn't want his attention anyway. But after a time…" her voice faded. "We came to love each other. It took a lot of work, but … he was very good to me."

Iain listened carefully before nodding. "I think," he said after a moment of silence, "that things turned out exactly as they were meant to. I mean, you had Lucius, and I had Rebecca, and we had our beautiful children…"

"Yes," Narcissa agreed, looking down the length of the couch at him. "We were both very fortunate."

The pair took a moment to reflect on their blessings.

"And now," went on Iain quietly, "here we are."

Narcissa's blue eyes flickered to his. "Here we are," she murmured in agreement.


	25. Chapter 25

Author's Note: Wow, the responses from the last chapter were so great! Thank you, guys!

Also, I finished my original novel and submitted my first query letter to a literary agency yesterday. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

* * *

Over the next few days, Narcissa and the rest of the household settled into their routines and waited for the girls to come home for Easter. Narcissa did her best to keep busy, which wasn't hard with a three-month-old baby to take care of. Still, as soon as she found herself with nothing to do, anxiety seeped into her heart. She worried so much for Draco and Ginny, but there was nothing she could do but wait.

So in her spare time, she studied her Swedish, read new books, practiced cooking, and annoyed the living daylights out of Iain Stewart.

The last one was her favorite.

"Narcissa!"

The woman in question raised her eyes to the front door of the house as Iain came in from outside, making a face as he looked all around. He was wearing only a thin white t-shirt and denim pants, and he'd been working outside for a few hours.

Merlin, he was so bloody handsome. Narcissa wanted to drown him in the sink.

"Yes?" asked Narcissa from the kitchen table, where she was flipping through a magazine. Athena was asleep in her crib upstairs.

"Where is my tape measure?" asked Iain, putting his hands on his hips.

Narcissa raised a brow. "How would I know?" She flipped a page in her magazine and sipped on her lemon water.

Iain cut his eyes at her, and Narcissa did her best to hide a smirk. "Because 'Cissa," he said with exaggerated patience, "you are always moving my tools. Now where is it?"

"I don't know, Iain. Where did you put it down?"

"On the kitchen counter!"

"Now why would you leave it there?" asked Narcissa calmly. "That's for food." Her lips quirked.

Iain put his hands on the table, and Narcissa smiled at him innocently. "Narcissa," he said in that tone he reserved specifically for her, "I need my tape measure. Tell me where it is!"

"I already told you, I don't know."

"Tell me!"

Narcissa shoved down her magazine. "I don't know where your bloody tape measure is, Iain Stewart! I haven't touched it!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"I don't believe you!"

Just then, Ali entered the house. "Hey Dad, hey Narcissa." He strolled in and went straight to the fridge. Then he paused and pulled something out of his pocket. "Oh, by the way, I borrowed your tape measure." He tossed it to Iain, who caught it. Ali turned back to the fridge. "Do we have any milk?"

Iain blinked, now cradling his tape measure. He bit his lip as Narcissa settled a smug glare on him. "Bottom shelf," she said to Ali without looking away from Iain, who flushed and gave her a sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"From time to time," agreed Narcissa.

Iain sighed, looking properly chastised. "I need to get back to work," he said, before turning, waving one hand. "Now where's my hammer? I just had it."

Narcissa rose from the table with a smirk. "Oh, It's on the outside table." She paused, before adding coyly as she passed him, "…I moved it."

Then she sauntered out, and Iain stared after her.

"YOU MAKE ME CRAZY, NARCISSA!"

* * *

The next day, Narcissa rose early and did her usual work. Around eleven in the morning, she put Athena down for a nap and wandered outside, hoping to bother Iain into taking a break. Unfortunately, he was rather busy, and when she found him at the shore of the lake, ankle-deep in water and putting anti-leaking charms on the hull of a boat, he didn't have time to stop for long.

"Perhaps I can help with something," said Narcissa, carefully keeping out of the water. She eyed his various tools and instruments scattered all over the grass, and Iain followed her gaze, his eyes going wide. He came up onto the grass and dried off his legs, which were bare beneath a pair of what he called  _gym shorts_.

"Narcissa, do  _not_  try to organize anything out here."

"But your stuff is everywhere!"

"I know exactly where it all is, I promise," he told her before taking both her arms in his large hands. "For the love of god, tell me what I have to do to keep you from touching my tools."

Narcissa thought about it. "I need to do something useful."

Iain put his hands on his hips and mused as well. "Oh!" he said, snapping his fingers. "The girls will be here tomorrow, you can go to Linköping and get stuff for the house! I'm sure there's things we need."

Narcissa felt her heart lift. "That's an excellent idea." She paused. "But who will watch Athena? She's asleep now, but she needs someone in the house with her."

"Go get Ali," suggested Iain. "If he's not here, I'm sure he's not doing anything productive."

Narcissa giggled, and Iain grinned before reaching up and touching her cheek. The touch was brief, but done with such clear affection that for a moment, Narcissa forgot what they were even talking about. Iain seemed to only realize what he was doing after a moment, and he dropped his hand, eyes flickering over her face for a moment before he pointed to the house. "I'll go sit inside with her until Ali gets here. Tell him to make it quick for me, aye?"

"I will," said Narcissa with a small flush. She turned to walk away before she stopped, having thought of something. "Iain, I saw something I wanted in a Muggle shop the last time we were there. Do you have any of that – parchment?"

Iain was already looking at his boat again, but he glanced back at her, lips quirked. "Aye, get some out of my wallet on the kitchen table."

"Thank you!" called out Narcissa as she headed into the house. Quickly finding Iain's wallet, she smiled a bit to herself as she flipped through it. Merlin, it was worn. Knowing Iain, it was probably the exact one he'd had when they were teenagers. Narcissa took the parchment out and placed it in her own purse, leaving a handful of gold on the counter in its place. Then she left and Apparated directly to Linköping.

She'd never been to Ali's flat, but Iain had pointed it out to her when they'd visited. The building was converted from a large house and had three other spaces just like Ali's. It was also owned by a wizard and magically protected, so Narcissa had to bypass a barrier to get in.

Ascending the outside stairs, Narcissa came to a door and knocked on it.

For a few seconds, she could only hear muffled movement inside. Then Ali appeared at the door, blinking sleepily. Narcissa barely kept from shrieking, and instead she huffed indignantly.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" she admonished. "Do you always answer the door in your underwear?"

Ali leaned against the doorframe with a bare shoulder. "Only when it's you, Narcissa," he said seductively.

Narcissa thumped his ear.

"Ow!"

"Go put some clothes on!"

"Alright, alright.." Ali stepped away from the door and Narcissa came in after him, closing it behind her as she watched Ali dig around in a laundry basket full of clothes. She hadn't been exaggerating; Ali really was only in his boxer shorts. She rolled her eyes and let him take his time finding clean pants.

As she waited, Narcissa's eyes drifted around his flat.

Good lord.

Ali had exactly five pieces of furniture in his home: a futon, a magical stereo, a collapsible table, a single dining room chair, and another low table that turned out to be a cardboard box with a bedsheet over it. Narcissa shifted in her spot.

"Ali," she asked as he tugged on a pair of jeans, "were you… robbed recently?"

Ali glanced around. "Uh… no."

Narcissa raised a brow. "How can you be sure?"

Ali tugged on a t-shirt. "Is there a problem with my flat, Narcissa?" he asked, smirking.

"Oh no," said Narcissa as kindly as she could. "It's quite - well." She paused before asking with a wince, "You don't bring  _girls_  here, do you?"

Ali's brows furrowed and he looked all around. "Sometimes?" he said uncertainly.

Narcissa eyed the open door that led to his bedroom. She could see his mussed bed, which was just a mattress with blankets. "Well, I'm sure they have a wonderful time," she said, clearing her throat. "Anyway, I was hoping you could go to the house and babysit Athena for me. I'll pay you. It's just I need to go shopping, and your father can't watch her for long."

Ali yawned and shrugged. "Sure," he said, looking around for his shoes. "You don't have to pay me, though."

Narcissa's lips quirked. Ali really was willing to drop whatever he was doing to watch Athena, even without being paid. He was a sweet one, like Iain.

"Well," she said, "How about I pick up some things for you while I'm in town?" She glanced around. "You know, some art for your walls, a few nice curtains…" she eyed his bedroom door, before finishing dryly, "… a pillowcase."

Ali put his hands in his pockets. "Get me whatever you like, Narcissa," he told her, before flashing her a grin.

"Oh, good," said Narcissa, clapping her hands together. "I'll see you in a few hours then!"

Moments later, they both disapparated.

Narcissa spent the better part of the afternoon shopping, first for the house and then for Ali. Last, she stopped at the Muggle shop she'd seen on her first visit to town. That lovely dress she'd seen was still there.

After debating with herself for nearly ten minutes, Narcissa went in.

When she left a half-hour later, she had four brand new Muggle dresses.

* * *

By the time Narcissa arrived back at the house, Iain was done with his work for the day and was hanging around with Ali and Athena outside under the tree. He looked up when she approached, laden with bags.

"Merlin, Narcissa," he said, letting out a breath of relief. "I was getting worried!"

"Sorry," said Narcissa sincerely. "I got a little carried away." She turned and dropped five large bags next to Ali. "Here, these are for you!"

Ali blinked in surprise. "All of them?" he asked incredulously, before looking inside. He pulled something out. "Dad, look! Bath towels.  _Plural_."

Iain groaned. "Really, Narcissa?"

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands over her face. "I know you want him to do things for himself, but his flat was absolutely pitiful. It looked like a vagrant had broken in there and set up a campsite!"

Ali's jaw dropped.

"… _to sell drugs_ ," finished Narcissa in a desperate whisper.

Iain shook his head at her, trying very hard not to laugh at her pleading expression. Ali was steadily pulling things out of his bags. "What's this?" he asked.

The other two looked over. "A toothbrush holder," Narcissa informed him wryly.

"Oh." Ali flushed. "I knew that."

Narcissa raised a brow at Iain, who finally laughed and shook his head. "Fine," he said, and Narcissa's pleading expression instantly transformed into a pleased smile. He shifted to look at his son. "You'd better count your lucky stars," he told him.

Ali flashed him a thumb's-up.

Shaking his head and smirking, Iain turned back to Narcissa and placed his hand on her face again, as he'd done before. Narcissa felt her smile grow, especially when Iain paused and placed his forehead against hers for just a moment. Then he walked past her, leaving Narcissa with a rather girlish urge to giggle.

Merlin, was her heart racing? Must have been the heat.

"Thanks Narcissa," said Ali, popping up next to her. He gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek, which surprised her. Then he left, presumably to go put his things up at home. Narcissa felt quite happy as she picked up Athena and brought her inside, where Iain was already preparing dinner.

* * *

The following morning, Iain left early to go pick up the girls. Narcissa rose after he'd gone and slipped on the dress she'd bought at the Muggle shop. It was a blue cotton dress with a v-neck and lightweight sleeves that went down to her wrists and belled. It went all the way to the floor of course, but it was a great deal thinner than any of her robes, and it seemed much more fitting to Iain's home than what she'd been wearing. Once Narcissa had it on, she stared at herself in the mirror, one hand touching her long white-blonde hair.

How far and away she looked from the Narcissa Malfoy of England.

This woman looked more like the Narcissa she could have been, the one that might have gone on to live with Iain after school. This simple dress was a reflection of how being in Iain's home made her feel: lighter, softer, without all the hard edges and dark colors that followed her life at the manor. She could already feel herself softening, her heart becoming more tender. In England, it had been so easy to be cruel and sharp. That was the world she lived in.

But things were different here.

Reaching up, Narcissa pulled her hair completely loose and let it fall around her face. For a moment, she could see her sixteen-year-old self, the girl who had been so optimistic about life after Hogwarts. The girl who had looked to Iain for comfort even before she'd realized it, the one who had imagined building a  _school_  of all things, a place for witches to go and feel sisterhood and companionship.

Looking over her shoulder, Narcissa's gaze found Athena's crib. The baby was awake now and swatting at the air, waiting for Narcissa to come and get her. Narcissa's features softened.

"Your life will be better," she promised the baby, lifting her into her arms. "I promise."

Kissing Athena's cheek, Narcissa turned and left the room, her hair still down and her feet bare. She took Athena down the stairs and saw that Ali was already there, undoubtedly waiting on his sisters to get home. He glanced up and saw Narcissa, and his eyes widened.

Then he smiled. It wasn't one of his teasing, flirtatious smiles or silly grins. It was a real, genuine smile.

"You look nice," he said as Narcissa placed Athena in the highchair. Narcissa glanced at him quickly, her cheeks taking on a rosy color.

"Does it look odd?" she asked, feeling self-conscious. She had triple-checked to make sure the dress wasn't formal or strange in any way, but she couldn't know for certain. She had never worn one.

Ali sat backwards in a chair, his arms on the back. "Nope," he told her. "I like it."

Narcissa relaxed some, and she went to preparing breakfast. It was nearly noon when Iain finally got back with the girls, pulling up outside the house in that car of his. Narcissa could hear the girls chattering rapidly in Swedish before they'd even gotten to the door.

However, as soon as the twelve-year-old twins appeared, their chatter turned to happy squeals and shrieks.

"ALI!" they rushed forward, jumping into their brother's arms.

Ali laughed and picked them both up at the same time, kissing one's head and then the other. Iain came in behind him, grinning. Then he caught sight of Narcissa, who stood away from the kitchen table and clasped her hands in front of her. Iain's eyes drifted over her, from head to toe, although he seemed to realize it partway through and did his best to hide it. Narcissa's lips quirked. The thin fabric of the blue dress was a great deal more flattering to her figure than the layers of robes she normally wore.

Iain quickly cleared his throat and gestured to Narcissa, who had picked up Athena and placed her on her hip. "Girls, this is Narcissa and her granddaughter Athena. They're the ones I told you about on the way over here."

The two girls peered up at Narcissa, and she smiled.

Oh, Faris and Rose.

They weren't identical, but they looked very, very similar. Both girls had sandy blond hair – their mother's hair, rather than Iain's – but Faris's was down and loose while Rose's was up in a ponytail. They were still wearing their school uniforms, a matching pair of crimson robes with long sleeves and white scarves around the collars. They were small, like Ali, and they had Iain's light freckles.

Faris looked over Narcissa with a great deal of interest, though she remained where she was. Rose tucked her head shyly, immediately losing her chattiness.

"Hello girls," greeted Narcissa with a smile. "It's lovely to meet you both at last."

Faris put her bag on the kitchen table and observed Narcissa. "Are you Narcissa who send us gifts sometimes?" she asked in thickly accented English.

Narcissa laughed. "Yes, all the way from England."

"Thank you," she said, while Rose echoed her in a teeny tiny voice.

"This is your baby?" asked Faris as Rose creeped up behind her, peering over her bolder sister's shoulder. It was quite clear she very much wanted to see Athena, and Narcissa remembered Iain telling her that Rose's favorite toys had always been baby dolls.

"This is my son's daughter," Narcissa explained. "Would you two like to hold her?"

"Yes!" said Faris, and even Rose nodded enthusiastically. Narcissa called them over to the living room couch, and she carefully sat Athena across both their laps, with Rose holding her head and Faris holding her legs. Both girls lit up with smiles, playing with Athena who kicked and babbled in her joyful little baby way.

Rose was absolutely enthralled, Narcissa could see. Faris played for a bit before she grew bored, and then she left the baby with Rose while she got up and went bouncing all over the house, begging Iain to bring in their trunks so she could take out her things.

"You know, you two could just pack bags," Iain told her as she raced up the stairs. "You're only here for a week!"

Faris disappeared in her room, and Iain tossed up his arms in exasperation while Narcissa giggled. Just a few minutes later, Faris came back downstairs, skipping all the while. Narcissa had always known she would like Faris, and she was right. Faris was very fashion-oriented, loved attention, and was a bit demanding. Narcissa loved it.

Before they left for dinner in Linköping, Faris had already changed outfits three times. Rose reluctantly handed over Athena and changed out of her school robes as well, though she was much less ostentatious in her clothing choices than her twin sister.

"We always eat here when we come from school," Faris informed Narcissa as they took their seats at seaside restaurant table, while Rose nodded in agreement. "It is our favorite!"

"I can help bottle Athena?" asked Rose in barely more than a whisper.

"Of course," said Narcissa, laughing when the table devolved into chaos as soon as the server came to their orders. Between the girls, who were incredibly excited to be home, Ali and Iain, who were trying to handle the girls, and Athena, who had decided that now was the time to sing the song of her people in loud baby babbles, the meal quickly became a flurry of activity and mishaps. At one point, Narcissa met Iain's gaze across the table – as Rose shrieked because Faris had eaten her pickle, and Athena hurled her bottle at a poor passing waitress – and they both cracked up.

"Oh my god," muttered Iain, dragging his hands down his face and laughing.

"Here, Rose, have mine," said Ali, trying to keep the peace as he gave Rose the pickle off his plate. "Faris, keep your hands to yourself."

"I didn't grab it with my hands, I grabbed it with my teeth!"

"Well then, keep your teeth to yourself!"

Athena waved an arm and knocked over a glass, but Narcissa caught it before it spilled. So basically, the dinner was a wonderful string of near-misses and almost-catastrophes, and Narcissa was surprised at how much she loved it.

By the time it was all said and done, everyone was full and ready for sleep, and none more so than the girls. They got home and Faris and Rose hugged Iain and Ali tightly before heading upstairs to their room. Narcissa barely lasted any longer, and after putting Athena in her crib, she fell into her own bed and smiled as she fell to dreams.

* * *

Over the next few days, Faris and Rose came around to Narcissa in their own ways. They each seemed suspicious of her at first – polite but rarely seeking her out – but after a time, they became more comfortable with her there, and by the third day, neither girl had a problem sitting down with Narcissa at the kitchen table or in the living room, chatting amicably about this and that. Their English was a great deal more difficult to understand than Ali's, although they tried very hard. Still, sometimes they would get frustrated with an English phrase, and they'd have to ask Ali or Iain for a different translation.

"You should learn Swedish," Faris told Narcissa ardently.

"I'm trying!" Narcissa told her.

Narcissa's favorite thing of all, though, was watching Iain with his girls.

Oh, Iain was such a good father. It was clear his heart belonged to them, and over the course of the week, he would often take time off from work and spend it with the twins, taking them out on the lake or on special trips to the ice cream parlor. At night, he would often curl up with both of them on the couch, one under each arm, and read with them. Narcissa made sure to give them that time alone.

After a few days, though, it became quite apparent that the girls were growing up – perhaps even more so than Iain himself had noticed. One day, Faris holed up in her bathroom, and she absolutely refused to let Iain inside.

"Just tell me what's wrong!" he called through the door, exasperated.

"No!" she called. Then there was a pause. "Is Narcissa there?"

Iain looked over at Narcissa with surprise, and she shrugged before coming closer. "I'm here, Faris. Are you alright?"

There was another pause. "You come in please?"

Iain balked, looking a little insulted that Faris would let Narcissa in and not him. Narcissa patted Iain's arm and went inside the bathroom, staying there for about ten minutes before she came back out. Iain was sitting at the kitchen table with Ali, and as soon as Narcissa appeared, he straightened.

"Is she okay?"

"Oh, she's fine," Narcissa told him, waving a hand. She sat down at the table with them and whispered, "She's just on her cycle. She needed some help."

Iain and Ali stared. Ali actually had his mouth open.

"They – They started that already?" asked Iain, looking absolutely shocked.

Narcissa's eyes widened. "Did you not know?"

Ali made a choked noise.

"Well, no!" exclaimed Iain, alarmed. "Bloody hell, I thought that was like – you know, fourteen or fifteen years old!"

Narcissa bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Oh, Iain, no! Apparently, Faris has had it a few times. Twelve is a perfectly normal age."

" _Really_?" he squeaked. "Oh my god. I am a terrible father." He dragged his hands down his face and then let his head fall against the table.

Ali took a very long drink from his coffee cup. After nearly five straight minutes of silence, he said in a stricken voice, "Merlin, they could have  _babies_  now."

"Be quiet!" hissed Iain, socking him in the shoulder.

Narcissa carefully hid her giggle and she patted both their hands. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think Rose has started hers. But it will only be a matter of time now. These things tend to be rather catching."

Both men stared after her as she left, but Narcissa simply shook her head and smiled.

* * *

After that, Faris grew quite attached to Narcissa, and since Rose was always with Faris, Narcissa soon found herself with two little shadows. Together with Iain and Ali, Narcissa spent the rest of the week entertaining the girls and doing whatever fun things they could think of.

Narcissa suggested they make crafts, and Faris and Rose immediately loved this idea. Since Narcissa knew Faris loved unique accessories, she bought them both a whole box of plain headbands, and they spent an entire afternoon on the floor, surrounded by ribbons and bows and sequins, making around a dozen fantastic and over-the-top headbands for the girls to wear, giggling all the while.

Ali came in and Rose begged him to join, so he did, creating an absolutely ridiculous bubblegum pink headband with little white puffs all over it.

"Who is yours for?" asked Rose, giggling.

"Me, of course," he said with a grin, putting it on his head. Faris and Rose burst out laughing, and Iain insisted on getting a picture.

After that, they all went outside in the cool spring night and sat near the lake, where Iain and Ali made a small fire and the happily family enjoyed being outside, roasting marshmallows and making gooey snacks next to the water. Narcissa her first-ever "s'more", which was delicious but messy. Iain came to rest next to her after the fire was settled, and he took the other half of her s'more, pushing it in his mouth and laughing.

"Oh, Dad!" exclaimed Faris. "We learn a new song for you!"

"Oh, yes!" Rose said, and they jumped up and raced inside before coming back outside with a matching pair of small acoustic guitars. Narcissa smiled, sucking the last of the chocolate off her fingers as she settled back against the tree. Iain was next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder, and she pressed a little closer. Ali had Athena, so there was nothing between them. Their bodies next to one another were relaxed, and Narcissa let herself enjoy the soft breeze rolling over them and the sounds of water nearby.

The girls settled with their guitars on their laps, and Faris cleared her throat. They both began to play. Iain instantly smiled next to Narcissa.

" _I'm a girl with the best intentions_ ," sang Faris first. " _Something I should probably mention_."

" _I like to get just what I pay for_ ," they sang together. " _So I pay and I get and I pay and I want some more, more, more! And I want somethin' that I want! Something I tell myself I need, something that I want! And I need everything I see_."

The girls grinned and sang together, Faris going high and Rose going low. " _I'm a girl who's got a notion. I'm gonna show you my magic potion!"_ Narcissa giggled as they continued. Her eyes shifted over to Iain's face, and his eyes caught hers.  _"And I want somethin' that I want, somethin' I tell myself I need."_

They strummed the last cord, and Narcissa and Iain were still looking at each other. Each flushing, they looked away from each other and clapped for the girls, who beamed proudly. "Beautiful!" Narcissa said enthusiastically, and the girls gave cheers before setting aside their guitars to eat more snacks.

Narcissa looked back over at Iain, who was watching her again. The fire crackled nearby, and Ali got caught up helping Rose get her marshmallow on the little metal rod she was using. Her eyes on the fire, Narcissa lifted her fingers and brushed them against Iain's. There was a moment when Iain didn't seem to react, and then his eyes shifted in her direction again, and he curled his fingers over hers, lacing them together.

Narcissa's lips quirked, but she only let herself look at him for a moment. Their joined hands were mostly hidden between them, but when Narcissa glanced over at the children again, she saw Ali was watching them. It was hard to read the expression on his face, but finally he smiled a little and turned back to the girls, helping them put their treats together.

Narcissa relaxed a little at this – and Iain seemed to do the same. Their hands remained joined, and Narcissa shifted to press a little closer to his side.

Then the girls made triple-stacked s'mores, and they all started laughing again.

* * *

The night before the girls planned to return to school, Narcissa sat at the kitchen table with a pot of tea while Iain bustled around the kitchen, preparing some fish he'd caught for dinner, a towel on his shoulder. Faris was laying on the floor in the living room, hair spread all around her head and about fifty newly-made bracelets up her arms. She also had a book in her hands, which she was holding up over her head to read.

Rose sat at the table with Narcissa, who had taken out her compact mirror. Athena had been an absolute terror at bathtime, and Narcissa wanted to make sure she wasn't covered in soap and grubby baby handprints.

"Narcissa," said Rose, blinking up at the older witch. "Can you teach me make-up?"

Narcissa closed her mirror and looked up in surprise. A quick glance at Iain revealed his scrunched face, and Narcissa smiled before turning back to Rose. "Oh, you don't need any of that, darling. Old ladies like me need make-up. Not pretty young girls like you."

"But I do need it," said Rose, looking sad. Then she said more quietly, "A boy say I am ugly yesterday."

"What?" exclaimed Iain incredulously from the kitchen. "What boy?"

"Anatol, across the lake."

"I will kick that kid's arse," Iain muttered darkly to Narcissa, who squeezed his hand before shifting back to Rose. Faris got up from her spot in the living room and came in, obviously interested in the conversation.

"Sweet Rose," said Narcissa, touching the girl's hand. "Make-up is a lot of fun, but it shouldn't be what makes you feel pretty. All of that is here." She tapped Rose's chest just over her heart. "Besides, you should know that you are absolutely gorgeous. You and Faris both."

Faris smiled, but Rose didn't seem convinced. "I don't feel pretty," murmured Rose. "A girl in my year - everyone say is the most beautiful girl ever, and I don't look like her at all."

Narcissa swept a thumb over Rose's cheek. "Tell me, Rose, what is something you find beautiful in nature? Anything at all."

Rose's brows furrowed, and she thought. "The lake," she said at last, and Narcissa clasped her hands together.

"The lake!" she said, smiling. "Oh, it's wonderful, isn't it? Sparkling water, gentle waves, and that lovely blue. You're very right, the lake is beautiful." She paused. "Now tell me something else you think is pretty. Anything that isn't the lake."

Rose tilted her head. "Um.. " she tapped her chin and then said confidently, "Flowers. Tulips."

"Tulips," Narcissa agreed, "are stunning. So many colors, and the loveliest shape." She paused, before going on with a soft smile, "now tell me, Rose. Does a tulip look anything like a lake?"

Rose actually giggled. "No," she said, as if it were obvious.

"No, not at all!" said Narcissa. "Lakes and tulips are very different, aren't they?" She touched Rose's hand. "But they're both beautiful." Rose's eyes widened, and Narcissa smiled fully. "People are the same way," Narcissa told her. "Just because you don't look like that girl in your year doesn't mean you aren't so very lovely."

Narcissa took both of her hands. "And do you know what will make you feel prettier than anything else in the whole world?" she asked, looking to Faris as well. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Iain watching them from where he worked in the kitchen.

"What?" asked the girls in unison.

Narcissa smiled. "Taking care of yourself," she told them. "That means drinking lots of water, getting plenty of rest, eating well, and taking as much joy in everyday things as you can." She gently pressed a lock of stray hair out of Rose's face. "Treat yourselves well. Paint your fingernails pretty colors – the colors  _you_  like, not anyone else. Wear the clothes  _you_  like. Make friends with people who treat you well, not those who tear you down. And be good to people in return." She touched Faris's cheek. "But most importantly, you must remember to love yourselves. Pamper yourselves.  _Worship_  yourselves." She squeezed their hands. "And that will give you a glow that no one can take away from you."

This time, Rose beamed at her, her entire expression transformed.

"Thank you, Narcissa," she whispered, eyes welling up with tears. She hugged Narcissa suddenly, and Narcissa felt a lump in her throat. She stroked Rose's head and then smiled when the girl pulled away to look at her.

* * *

A little while later, while the family ate dinner together, Narcissa's mind wandered. Strangely enough, she found herself remembering a conversation she'd had with Ginny Weasley.

_Do you ever wish you had a daughter?_

Narcissa thought back to her answer. It had been a cold and resolute  _No_.

 _I grew up in a household of girls,_ she'd told Ginny that day.  _And I saw how they suffered for every indiscretion._ Narcissa stirred her food at the dinner table while the others chatted around her.  _Everyone suffers of course,_ Narcissa had told Ginny.  _But witches aren't allowed to talk about it, as wizards are. My sisters both learned this the hard way._

Ginny had peered up at her then, strangely gentle in that moment.

 _And you?_ the girl had asked.

Narcissa remembered looking up at the Weasley girl with a blank, impassive mask, and comprehension crossed Ginny's features. They didn't need to say anything more. Ginny understood.

Looking across the table at Faris and Rose, Narcissa felt her hand still, fork scraping the plate.

Faris was bold and outspoken, always willing to voice her opinion, no matter how outlandish. Rose was sensitive, never afraid to cry or ask for help, always ready for a hug.

In contrast, Narcissa thought of herself at age twelve.

Never could she have imagined, at such a tender age, that there was a home where parents embraced their children. Where there was no fear of being neglected, abused, or left behind. There were no cold glares here, no sharp words. There was no hand raised, no bottles left open on the floor, no decaying house that was barren of love and care.

For the first time in her life, Narcissa saw how she might have lived. She and her sisters had suffered in silence for so long, and to Narcissa, that had been normal. Expected. Inescapable.

Now, as she watched Faris laugh and Rose make faces at Athena, she saw that it did not have to be that way. And perhaps it never had. That had only been her life.

She hadn't known that, then. She had not even known it yesterday. But she knew it now.

Her eyes watered.

"'Cissa?"

Her eyes flickered up to Iain's face, which was looking over her with concern. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

Rose and Faris paused in their teasing and looked over at her, too.

Narcissa managed a small smile. "Yes," she said in barely more than a whisper. "I'm fine."

She finished eating, put Athena to bed, and then walked outside alone. When she came to the lake, she cast a spell on the water. " _Semita."_

Once the invisible path was made, Narcissa walked onto the cool blue water, going further than she ever had before. After a while, she stopped and looked up at the moon overhead. Water stirred beneath her feet, sloshing gently.

For a long while, Narcissa stayed there on the lake. Eventually, she closed her eyes. A few tears – but no more – fell down her cheeks.

That was all. She did not cry any more after that. Instead, she turned back and walked her path to the grass once more, where Iain was waiting. When she came close to the front door, he offered a hand to her, not saying a word.

Narcissa took it, and he led her back inside.

* * *

Author’s Note: If you’d like to hear the song Faris and Rose sing in this chapter, it’s Bethany Joy Galleotti and Grace Potter’s version of “Something That I want,” which you can find on YouTube


	26. Chapter 26

Author's Note: I posted the last chapter about 12 hours ago so I figured it was time to write this one. Makes sense, eh? It's my last week of summer break before I begin teaching again, so here we go.

By the way, I forgot to answer a kind reviewer last chapter – this story will only have two chapters left, including this one. (:

One last note – listen to "Perfect Duet" by Ed Sheeran and Beyoncé. It was written specifically for Narcissa and Iain and anyone who disagrees can fight me.

* * *

The girls left the next morning, sharing hugs with Narcissa and Athena – as well as Ali, of course – before leaving.

"Will you be here when we come for summer?" asked Rose, blinking up at Narcissa with a hopeful look.

Narcissa felt her heart swell. "I believe so, yes." The girls would be done with school in late May, and Draco had said June. Faris and Rose both cheered before hugging her one last time and then leaving with Iain to return to school.

After they left, Iain got word that his current commission needed to be rushed, so over the next few weeks, things became quite busy around the house. More so for Iain and Ali, of course, but Narcissa had her hands full with Athena, who caught a cold and had to be monitored very closely.

Narcissa wished she could spend more time with Iain, but he had a  _lot_  of work to do, so much in fact that he ended up calling in a few other wizards to help him and Ali out. As a result, Narcissa did her best to make sure everything in the house was done – she learned quite a lot about laundry, funnily enough – while still taking care of Athena, who recovered from her cold and became her usual happy baby self in about a week.

Iain was quite clearly exhausted, and sometimes he'd come inside after working for nearly twelve hours straight and fall asleep in the couch before Narcissa had even finished preparing dinner. Once, she found him dozing on the cushions with Athena on his chest, likewise snoozing. He had one large arm over the baby and the other over his face.

_Poor man_ , though Narcissa with a bubble of amusement. He'd be finished with the boat soon, but for a time, it was really getting to him. He wasn't going to sacrifice any details to get it done faster, though. Iain's quality was very important to him, and so even after everyone else had left and the sky had grown dark, Iain would sometimes set up a maze of lanterns and lights outside so he could keep working.

The stress caused him to be rather short with Ali, though, and when it was just the two of them working, they'd sometimes get in arguments like before. One day, Narcissa brought some ice water outside just as Iain left the dock and walked across the grass in her direction. Ali was just a few steps behind him, looking exhausted even though it was only midday.

"Ali," said Iain as he walked up to Narcissa. "Take that wood down to the dock."

Ali made a face and moved to go inside the house.

"Where are you going?" asked Iain gruffly.

"To get my wand," replied Ali.

"Oh, for the love of God, Ali! Carry it with your bloody hands!"

"It's HEAVY!"

Iain turned with a huff, effortlessly picked up the pile of planks he'd gestured to, and then dumped them in Ali's arms. The weight of the wood nearly sent Ali to get the ground, but he managed with a grimace and then walked them slowly down to the dock. Iain shook his head and looked at Narcissa.

"Can  _your_  son carry more than a stone's worth of weight?" he asked, annoyed.

Narcissa raised a brow. "Who, Draco? Oh, I doubt it. In fact, I'd wager his wife can carry more than he can." They watched together as Ali reached the dock and unceremoniously dumped the entire pile of wood on the ground.

Iain dragged a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ."

"Oh, Iain," said Narcissa. "Leave him be. Ali is small."

"He is a grown man. He can carry some wood," said Iain, making a face. "He just wants magic to do everything for him. I keep telling him, he doesn't need to rely on magic for everything, but he never listens."

Ali turned to face them from several feet away, and he made a big exaggerated gesture at the wood to show he'd done it. Iain rolled his eyes, and as soon as he turned away, Ali turned his middle finger in his father's direction. Narcissa bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Instead of saying anything further, though, she simply brought Ali some water, patted his head, and then walked back inside.

* * *

"I'm sorry I've been working so much," Iain told Narcissa on one of the nights he managed to stay awake long enough to eat. "I hate that I even took this stupid commission."

"Don't be sorry, Iain," she told him, sitting down with a bottle for Athena. "I'm not here to stop you from working by any means." She started feeding Athena. "But why did you take it? Seems like the very sort of boat you hate. The big fancy ones, I mean."

"It is!" said Iain, sitting back in his chair. "But it's the biggest payoff I've ever had, and I need it because the girls want to go to this camp in Italy this summer." He made a face. "The bloody camp is three hundred galleons. A  _kid_. And I have two of them wanting to go at the same time."

"The joys of twins," remarked Narcissa with a smile. "And the sacrifices of parents."

"Mmhm," he said, putting his chin in his hand and giving her a tired smile in return. "So it'll be worth it, in the end… but it's driving me crazy right now." He paused. "I've also been setting some gold aside for Ali, even though I haven't told him that. I'm just – so bloody afraid he's never going to get anything going, you know?" Iain frowned. "I feel bad for saying that. He's bloody brilliant. And when he actually tries, he does a great job. He just – I don't know. He doesn't  _want_  anything. And I don't understand why."

"Twenty-five is still very young," pointed out Narcissa gently.

"I know," admitted Iain with a sigh. "I'm just – I want him to have a good life. And I don't understand why he won't just figure something out –  _anything_. He acts like working for me is the bane of his existence, but does he try to do anything different? Of course not." Iain waved a hand. "I just wish he'd mature. Even a little."

Narcissa traced the handle of her teacup. After a long pause, she reached over and slipped her hand over Iain's, pulling her fingers around his. He looked up and met her eyes.

"Iain," she said softly, "my son Draco is only nineteen years old… but he is a husband, a father, a high-ranking Ministry official  _and_  the head of the wealthiest estate in all the country. And do you know what?" Her grip on Iain's hand grew tighter. "I would give  _anything_ … for him to be as carefree as Ali."

Iain's eyes softened and dropped. He squeezed her hand back.

"I know you're concerned for him," said Narcissa with a sad smile. "But Iain, please - be grateful that your son did not have to grow up as fast as mine did." She paused, before going on, "… as fast as we did."

Iain swallowed, his fingers flexing in hers.

"Give him time," murmured Narcissa. "When he figures out something worth working for, he'll do it. He has everything he needs. Let him go through life in his own way."

Iain inhaled deeply, and Narcissa saw that his eyes were shining, as if he might cry.

"I just want to make sure he's alright," said Iain in barely more than a whisper. "All he has is me." He breathed in again, looking away. "His mother died so suddenly, and I just can't help but think – you know, if something happens to me… What will he do? What will the girls do? Will he be able to take care of them on his own?"

Narcissa watched his face. "Iain, I have no doubt – none at all – that Ali would step up to care for his sisters if something were to happen to you. But you mustn't think like that. You are healthy, and you cannot put pressure on Ali out of fear of something that  _might_  happen."

Iain nodded, letting out a slow exhale. Narcissa smiled softly, moving from the table and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Go and rest," she told him.

Iain reached up and put his hand over hers where it was on his shoulder. "Narcissa, I promise when I get done with this job, I'm not taking any more while you're here. I – " he paused for a moment, before going on, almost cautiously, "I want to spend more time with you… and Athena, of course."

Narcissa looked over him, her heart beating quite fast. "Alright," she murmured with a smile.

* * *

For the next two weeks, Iain and Ali worked near-constantly to finish the boat. Narcissa often listened through the open windows, and she found that Iain had indeed taken her words to heart; not once did she hear him criticize Ali, nor did any of their conversations devolve into arguments.

Ali seemed to sense this initiative of his father's, and he did less to antagonize him in return. As a result, the two worked very well together, often laughing and joking as they had no problem doing outside of work.

Finally, they finished the boat and Iain put on his best wizarding robes – oh, he looked so devilishly handsome – to greet the very wealthy customers, which turned out to be a prestigious family of Swedish purebloods. Narcissa even knew them – not personally, but she had seen them on the occasion in England before the war – so she wore her Cloaking necklace when they came by.

Iain asked Narcissa to greet them by his side, mostly because he did not like dealing with the aristocratic types, so she did. She put on her fine robes again, made sure to wear her Cloaking necklace, and introduced herself as Lyra, a name she had picked out some time ago.

The esteemed older couple had, apparently, commissioned the boat as a gift for their very spoilt and rather snobbish twenty-one-year-old son. To Narcissa's amusement, the young wizard seemed quite smitten with Narcissa when he met her. To her even greater amusement, this seemed to annoy Iain very much.

Fortunately, the young wizard loved his outrageous and over-the-top gift, and when Iain finally got finished talking to the family and they left with their boat, he wrapped Narcissa up in a hug that lifted her off her feet.

"They LOVED it, Narcissa!" he said joyfully, putting her back on her feet. "They even gave me a bonus – four hundred bloody galleons! Can you  _believe_  that?"

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Narcissa, laughing. "That is quite the tip." She rolled her eyes, smirking. "It's all about the presentation. They know this boat is the absolute best, and they'll be the envy of all their friends. It's all a competition."

Iain made a happy, pleased puff. Then he looked down at the bag in hand. "I'm going to give all the bonus to Ali," he decided suddenly. "The rest of the payment will be plenty for the girls and the other wizards who helped me."

Narcissa felt herself beam, and Iain touched her face affectionately before leaving to go to Ali's flat. After that day, Iain kept his promise. He took no new orders, and instead only worked half-days, doing small repairs and other catchup work.

In the afternoons, he made good on many of his other promises as well.

"Today is the day," he told her one fine afternoon, "I finally teach you how to fish."

"Oh no," exhaled Narcissa in horror, ready to flee, but Iain tugged her back, and that was indeed - somehow, miraculously – the day Narcissa Black Malfoy learned how to fish.

But only after losing two of Iain's poles in the lake, because every time a fish got hooked on the end, she screamed and let go of the pole.

When they weren't fishing and Ali was there with Athena, Iain took Narcissa out on the sailboat, spinning them out around the lake and flying them across the water, sometimes straight into the round orange sun sitting against the water.

The air rushing by, the sparkle of blue water, the bracing speckles racing up to meet them – it was all so exhilarating, so freeing. Narcissa would put on her Muggle dress and no shoes, and she would stand on the netting of the boat so she could see the water rushing by underneath. Iain brought her up to the sails and showed her how to navigate, how to use the ropes, how to pay attention to the wind and change directions when necessary.

Together, they tugged on ropes and pulleys, outran sudden storms, and glided across the calm lake, often coming to shore only to gather up Athena and Ali and sit on the banks of the lake, watching the sky.

For the first time, Narcissa felt as though she was truly living. The world seemed so big, so blue, so beautiful.

Athena grew like a weed, too; one day Narcissa looked at her and marveled at how much she'd grown since coming to Sweden. Another morning, the little baby girl rolled over on her own for the first time, and Narcissa nearly shrieked.

"Look, look, Iain! She's rolling over!"

And just like that, Athena was mobile. She would roll and roll and roll, giggling all the while, mischievous as a niffler in a Gringotts vault. One day she rolled in the direction of the open front door, and just when Iain, Ali and Narcissa all realized it in the same moment, she rolled right out – only to bounce back in.

The three adults stopped, perplexed.

Giggling madly, Athena rolled out of the door again, springing back into the house each time instead of hitting the hard concrete of the steps. Finally, Ali hurried over and picked her up, peering out of the door like there might be a trampoline out there they didn't know about.

Iain put his hands on his hips and chuckled. "I think she's a witch, don't you?"

Narcissa giggled and clapped her hands, taking Athena from Ali's arms and smothering her with kisses. "Oh my little Athena," she cooed.

* * *

Each day, Narcissa wondered more and more at the feelings in her heart. Each day, she felt as if her spirit fluttered to life as soon as she saw him.

_Could it really be_? she wondered alone in her room at night. Could she really still love him every bit as much as she had so many years ago? Could this life be real for her, not just a temporary escape?

It was now the third week in May, and she had been in Sweden for a month and a half. Still she had not heard from Draco. She had no idea what was going on in England. She did not even know for certain he was alive.

Perhaps it was this that kept her from talking to Iain –  _really_  talking to him, expressing how she felt. There was too much uncertainty, too many shadowy corners in her life.

Determined to press on, Narcissa rose from bed and got Athena from her crib. Now that Iain and Ali's biggest project was finished, Ali had been around a lot less over the past few days, so Narcissa was a little surprised to see him at the kitchen table when she came downstairs.

"Morning," he said, looking up from the newspaper. Narcissa smiled to herself. He looked just like Iain when he sat like that, with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. She'd told him so once, and he'd seemed quite insulted by the idea.

"Good morning," she said, placing Athena in her highchair so she could make some tea. As soon as Athena was in her chair, Ali immediately took her out and put her in his lap, cuddling her and kissing her cheeks, making her giggle with delight. Athena rarely had to go without being held by someone. She was just too loved (and maybe a little spoiled, but that was the Malfoy way).

Iain came downstairs a few minutes later, smiling at Narcissa and joining Ali at the table with his own cup of coffee. Eventually, they all sat down together while Iain and Ali talked about something Quidditch-related.

When they were done, Narcissa sipped at her tea and asked, "So Ali, what did you spend your bonus gold on?"

Ali set aside the newspaper. "Beer and hookers," he told them with a pleased smirk.

Iain rolled his eyes grandly.

"Just kidding," said Ali easily, setting Athena aside in her chair and eating some eggs. "Actually, I bought some furniture. You know, a bed… a table… that thing with the drawers."

"A dresser?" asked Narcissa, amused.

Ali snapped his fingers and pointed. "Aye, that."

"Hmm," said Iain thoughtfully from where he sat next to Narcissa. "And what inspired this strangely sensible purchase?"

Ali wiggled his eyebrows. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would, that's why I asked," was Iain's wry response.

Ali's lips quirked, and for a moment, he seemed pensive. Then he leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you two about."

Narcissa looked up in surprise, and Iain appeared much the same.

"I'd like to bring someone by on Saturday for lunch," Ali told them. "A girl I'm seeing."

"Really?" asked Iain in surprise.

"Mmhm," said Ali, looking rather casual, but Narcissa could see something in his eyes she'd never seen before. He wasn't teasing. His lips were quirked in a smile, but he was quite serious. "I'd like her to meet you." He paused before going on lightly, "Both of you."

"Oh," said Iain. "Well, sure. I didn't even know you were dating someone. Why didn't you tell me?"

Ali settled a look on Iain. "Because I like hearing you lecture me about what a man-whore I am," he said without a blink.

"Iain!" admonished Narcissa, and Iain quickly tossed up his hands.

"Wha - I never said that – exact phrase," Iain defended, before shrugging. "… in English." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, that sounds great, son. I'm sure we'll be glad to meet her."

"Yes, certainly," said Narcissa, feeling immense pride that Ali wanted her to meet his girlfriend. "Tell us about her."

Ali put his chin in his hand. "Her name is Lindsey. She's really sweet – younger than me, she's only twenty. I met her at one of the wizarding pubs downtown." He straightened. "But she wasn't there partying or anything. She was performing music." He toyed with a salt shaker, smiling almost dreamily. "She's a violinist."

"Oh, I adore violin!" said Narcissa happily.

Iain grinned. "Sounds good, Ali. Looking forward to meeting her."

Ali still seemed to have something to say, though, and he did.

"There is one more thing," Ali said rather cautiously, and now he wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, he looked rather serious – almost suspicious. Narcissa could not imagine why, but she quickly found out.

"Lindsey comes from a very prestigious pureblood family," Ali told them both, before going on, "… but she herself is a Squib."

Narcissa, who had lifted her teacup to her lips, froze.

"Is that going to be a problem?" asked Ali evenly.

"Of course not," said Iain, as if confused by his question. But Ali wasn't looking at Iain. He was looking at Narcissa, whose eyes widened when Iain shifted to look at her as well. She quickly replaced her cup on the saucer.

"Oh – Oh, not at all." She cleared her throat and managed a small smile. "I'm sure we'll all have a wonderful time."

"Good," said Ali rather lowly, eyes never leaving her. He looked at Narcissa for a moment longer, and then he stood up swiftly. "Well, I have to go. I'll see you all later." With one last kiss to Athena, Ali strolled out of the house and Disapparated as soon as he was past the threshold.

The moment he vanished, Narcissa stood swiftly and faced Iain, who had risen to pick up the dishes.

"A  _Squib_ , Iain?" she exclaimed more loudly than she'd meant to.

Iain blinked, looking startled. He seemed taken aback for a moment, and then he groaned. "Come on, Cissa. You aren't serious, are you?" He took the plate away to the kitchen, and Narcissa followed him, a full-blown panic blooming in her chest.

"Yes, I am absolutely serious! Iain, you can't let Ali date a  _Squib_! That could destroy his life!"

Iain dropped off the plates in the sink turned to face her, his brows furrowed. After a moment, he folded his arms and leaned against the sink.

"Okay, Narcissa," he said calmly. "Explain to me your argument."

Narcissa sucked in a deep breath. "Squibs are the absolute lowest members in all magical society. They are notorious criminals and vagabonds, they have no education, and they're positively reviled by witches and wizards! If Ali dates a Squib now, he may find later that no decent witch wants anything to do with him! His friends will insult him, his job prospects will be limited, and people will  _shun_  him!"

Iain observed her. "If that's true, Narcissa," he told her, "then Ali doesn't need those sorts of people in his life."

"Oh, you don't understand!" exclaimed Narcissa tearfully. "The prejudice against Squibs is ten times stronger than that against Muggleborns! They're not just Muggles, Iain. They can see things that witches and wizards see, but they cannot use it, they cannot touch it, they cannot do anything! They are handicapped in our world, Iain! They are crippled! And if Ali dates one of them, he will be hardly any better!"

She thought of Ali as an outcast, suffering with his Squib wife and maybe even Squib children. The image hurt her heart.

Iain tried to speak, but Narcissa overlapped him in her panic. She paced, her hands over her face. "Merlin, Iain! Squibs in our world – they're like Muggles born without arms and legs! They have no future!" She turned to face Iain. "Is that what you want for Ali?"

"Narcissa, calm down," implored Iain, taking her hands in his arms and sweeping her hair out of her face. "Look, take a deep breath. It's okay."

She breathed in sharply, only just now realizing a few tears had slipped out.

"Narcissa," said Iain gently, "that isn't going to happen. Ali is going to be fine – "

"You don't get it," murmured Narcissa unhappily. "You just don't understand. Think about it, Iain. Think about the Squibs you know."

Iain shrugged uselessly. "I don't know any."

"Yes, you do, Iain! Think!"

Iain remained blank.

"Argus Filch," said Narcissa emphatically. "Argus Filch was a Squib. And you know what he was like. Is that the kind of life you want tainting Ali's? His children?"

Iain stared at her for a long moment. Then, finally, he shifted and reached up, pulling Narcissa's hands away from her face and sweeping his curled finger over her cheeks to clear them from tears.

"Cissa," he said softly, "I know you. And I know you're saying all of this because you are genuinely concerned for Ali." He dropped his hands to her arms and gently tugged her closer, so that they were nearly touching. "But you have to know that dating a Squib is not going to make all of that happen. And  _surely_  someone as smart as you knows that Squibs are not criminals and delinquents by nature."

Narcissa huffed, but Iain went on.

"You said it yourself," said Iain firmly. "Squibs are the lowest members of magical society, and for what reason? Because they can't do spellwork? Narcissa, there is nothing wrong with being a Squib." He held up a single finger. "The problem is with how people treat them  _because_  they're Squibs."

"But Filch – "

"Come on, Narcissa," said Iain emphatically. "Think. Do you really believe Argus Filch was born an angry old man who likes torturing children? Of course not! He became that way over time, and I'll bet anything it was because of the way people treated him as a Squib. Witches and wizards look at people like Filch for validation of their prejudice, but it's nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you give Squibs no respect and no opportunities, of course they're going to be criminals. Of course they're only going to work the worst types of jobs. What choice do they have?"

Narcissa shifted, eyes shifting to the corner of the room.

"Now imagine," said Iain, reaching up and touching her jaw so that she looked at him again, "if someone like you… a powerful pureblood, a Malfoy, went out of her way to be kind to a Squib. What kind of effect do you think that would have?"

Narcissa pursed her lips. "Witches and wizards would scorn me."

"Some," admitted Iain. "But plenty of others wouldn't. You always wanted to let people see you and follow your example, didn't you? You wanted to set trends, remember? Well, why not this? Why not make things better for some of the people in our world who need it the most?"

Narcissa sighed. "Iain, me being kind to one Squib won't make a difference."

His thumb stroked her jaw. "It will to her," he said softly. Narcissa bit her lip, and Iain moved closer. "Squibs can't change the way they were born. But people can certainly change the way they react to it. And really, what harm could come of being kinder to a group of people in our own community? What fallout is there from simple acceptance?" Iain's fingers curled in hers. "You are better than what you've been taught, Narcissa. I know it."

Narcissa looked up at his face, and what she saw there was so earnest, so imploring, that she felt shame – not for her feelings on Squibs, but for not living up to his expectations for her.

In that moment, she was forced to ask herself what was stronger: her prejudice, so deeply ingrained it seemed laced in her bones, or her desire to be this person that Iain saw – this example of kindness.

Did she really have that in her?

For a few moments, she struggled to speak. At last, she whispered, "Very well. I'll try."

Iain's lips quirked in a smile. "You're a good person, Narcissa."

She swallowed and shifted her eyes away from him. "Trying to convince yourself?" she asked bitterly.

Iain chuckled quietly and then leaned over, pressing his lips to her temple. "I'm trying to convince  _you_ ," he murmured against her hair. Then he walked away, leaving Narcissa to close her eyes against the tears that threatened. Her heart pounded, and when she heard Iain leave the room, she pressed her hand over her chest and sniffed, so very overwhelmed.

* * *

So just a few days later, Narcissa and Iain prepared a lovely lunch for them all to enjoy outside under the tree next to the lake. Iain brought out a picnic table, and Narcissa levitated out Athena's highchair. They also put out a blanket and a few extra chairs.

Narcissa fidgeted the whole day, but she did not say anything unkind about Ali's girlfriend. She did not even think it. All she could do the entire morning was chant to herself –  _Forget she's a Squib, forget she's a Squib, forget she's a Squib._

It was all she could do.

Around noon, as Iain and Narcissa put the finishing touches on the picnic table's place settings, a  _pop_! sounded, and Ali appeared several feet away with a smiling young woman at his side.

Narcissa straightened, breathing in deeply. Iain came to her side and gave her a gentle smile.

Ali and the young woman approached, hand in hand. The first thing Narcissa noticed was the girl was the only one out of all of them wearing wizarding robes. Ali, Iain, and even Narcissa were all in Muggle clothes (though mostly for the sake of her disguise).

The girl's robes were quite stylish, too, lavender in color with white accents. Lindsey was also very pretty, with curly honey-blonde hair pulled back in a cute bun, dimpled cheeks, and big round eyes framed in dark lashes. She beamed excitedly as soon as they appeared, and her expression lit up with even more delight when she saw the lake. Even before she and Ali got in speaking range of them, Narcissa could see that the girl – Lindsey – was very animated and bubbly. As they approached, she was practically bouncing, and Ali looked over at her and grinned.

"Just in time for the food," said Iain as they approached, and Ali waved with his free hand.

"As always," he said before stopping in front of them with a happy little huff. "Lindsey, this is my dad, Iain, and this is our guest, Lyra – plus her granddaughter, Athena."

"Hello!" greeted Lindsey, shaking Iain's hand with both of hers. Narcissa had a surreal moment where she considered not shaking the girl's hand, but when Lindsey rounded to face her with a huge smile – one that seemed to take over her whole tiny face – Narcissa found herself extending a hand and smiling politely.

"It's wonderful to meet you!" greeted Lindsey enthusiastically, before she clapped her hands over her face. "Oh, your granddaughter is absolutely beautiful!"

Narcissa found herself chuckling. "Thank you," she said, always ready to accept praise for her granddaughter.

Iain quickly took over, ushering them all over to the picnic table. Narcissa handed Athena over to Iain as she quickly finished placing everything where it needed to go, and then they all sat down. Around them, the day was bright and sunny, pleasantly warm with a refreshing breeze. Iain placed Athena in her chair and sat down next to Narcissa.

"Wow," said Lindsey, looking around. "You really grew up out here, Ali?"

"Aye," said Ali, smiling.

"It's amazing," she breathed.

"Where are you from, Lindsey?" asked Iain.

"Oh, I'm from New York," said Lindsey. "I live in the city, so I never get to see anything as beautiful as this."

"American, then?" asked Narcissa, and then because she wanted something nice to say, she went on, "You know, I've always heard Ilvermorny is such a good school."

Activity at the table paused, and Narcissa looked up just in time to see Lindsey's sweet face fall.

_Oh, bloody hell_ , though Narcissa. Why had she mentioned Ilvermorny? Lindsey wouldn't have been allowed to attend, being a Squib. The lunch had barely started, and she'd already managed to insult the girl.

But Lindsey's expression only flickered for a moment. Her next smile, smaller than the others but just as kind, appeared within a moment. "I – I think it is, yes," she said to Narcissa with a chipper nod. "All my brothers and sisters really loved it." She cleared her throat. "I was … educated at home though," she finished softly.

For a few seconds, no one really said anything. Narcissa glanced down at her food, but the image of Lindsey's sad expression – hidden in a split-second behind a smile – stayed with her.

How many times had Narcissa hidden behind a mask just like that one? And perhaps Lindsey's wasn't even a mask. Perhaps she really was a happy, animated young woman from a pureblood family, with all the knowledge and culture of Narcissa's own world… missing only a wand.

But there had been a moment when she'd been embarrassed, ashamed of not being allowed to attend school. And Narcissa had seen it. Perhaps it had been in passing, but it lingered there.

She remembered Iain's desperate look to her the day before, and his words:  _It will to her._

Finally, Narcissa looked back up. Her thoughts had been a flurry, and only a few seconds had passed when she met Lindsey's gaze and said, "…Your parents were very lucky then."

The younger girl looked up in surprise, her round eyes wide.

Narcissa smiled softly and put her hand on her own chest, over her heart. "I would have given anything to keep my son at home with me. Your mother and father were very fortunate, to be able to keep you so near."

Lindsey stared, her little pink lips parted just a bit. If she truly came from a pureblood family, Narcissa doubted anyone had ever referred to her parents as "fortunate" for having a Squib child. For a moment, Lindsey didn't seem to know how to react.

Then she bit her lip and said rather shyly, "Well… we  _are_  really close. And I did get to do a lot of stuff my brothers and sisters didn't get to… so..."

And then Lindsey's whole face lit up in a brilliant smile, brighter than any of the others before it.

Much to her own surprise, Narcissa's heart lifted.

Ali, who had been listening quietly the whole time, looked over at Lindsey with a look of unparalleled adoration. When Narcissa pulled her hand away and continued eating, he looped an arm around Lindsey's waist and kissed her cheek, making her giggle.

Narcissa pretended to feel quite normal, but when she glanced at Iain out of the corner of her eye, she felt a lump in her throat.

He looked so proud.

The group went on eating and chatting, and Lindsey proved herself to be everything a pureblood witch should be: pretty, polished, and present – while also being a Squib. She was more than that, though. Lindsey quickly proved herself to be chatty, kind, and silly, much like Ali. It amused Narcissa to see that Ali was actually the more down-to-earth of the two. Lindsey was like an excited puppy trapped in a human's body.

"I came to Sweden to audition for the Brighton Magical Orchestra," Lindsey told them. "It's been my dream since I was a little girl to join them, but I've already auditioned four times and I keep scoring just under the cut."

"Will you play for us?" asked Iain, and Lindsey beamed before nodding, jumping up and grabbing her violin case out of a bag that apparently had an Extendable Charm on it. Ali reclined on the blanket and looked up at her with clear admiration as Lindsey drew her bow across the fine violin.

Her song was upbeat and chipper, just like Lindsey, and she danced while she played – even the difficult parts, which was fast and furious. Narcissa was genuinely impressed, and when Lindsey was done, they all clapped for her enthusiastically. Lindsey giggled and bowed before dropping down to the blankets again.

"Goodness," said Narcissa. "How on earth could you have not made the cut?"

Lindsey shrugged, but Ali scowled softly. "They always ask for her blood-status on the application," he said lowly.

"What?" exclaimed Iain. "Can they do that? Is that even legal?"

Narcissa frowned. She had known it, but somehow, she had never  _thought_  about it. "They do it in England all the time," she admitted. "They can also inquire as to someone 'beast status'. If they're part Veela, for example, or if there is a history of lycanthropy in the family."

Lindsey twisted her lips in a little pout, but she quickly shrugged again. "It's okay. I'll just keep auditioning," she said, before waving her arms. "Maybe they'll get tired of seeing me and just give me the job!" She laughed, but Ali only managed a small smile. It was obvious that her treatment bothered him quite a lot, but Lindsey's bubbly personality didn't let it show nearly as much.

After that, Ali drew Lindsey up and pulled her over to the sailboats. "We're going to take one out, Dad!" he called to Iain, who simply waved his hand. Ali grinned and tugged Lindsey onto the boat, and together they pushed away from the shore, with Lindsey nearly bouncing right off within just a few seconds. Ali quickly made her sit down after that.

On the shore, Narcissa watched them go, Athena in her arms. Behind her, Iain came up and stood next to her, very close. When he looked over at her, Narcissa turned her eyes to his face and felt her entire body gravitate in his direction, like a flower towards the sun.

Iain didn't say anything. He just looked at her, his lips quirked, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on her face.

Narcissa could not bring herself to say anything either, so instead she simply shifted Athena in her arms and turned to him, tucking her head under his chin and putting her face in his chest.

Iain's strong arms came up around her.

On the lake, Ali stood next to the sail on his boat and shifted to look towards the shore. Lindsey stood as well, moving over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and she smiled tenderly.

"So how long have your dad and Lyra been in love?" she asked softly.

Ali let out a sigh. "I'm starting to think … it's been a really long time," he told her, looking down at her face. Lindsey shifted to look up at him.

"Does that make you sad?" she asked.

"A little," admitted Ali. "But more happy than sad."

"Then you should do something nice for them," Lindsey said with a tender smile. "Let them know it's okay."

Ali swallowed, his grip on her tightening as he watched Narcissa and Iain on the shore. "You know what?" he said, looking down at Lindsey and smiling. "I think you're right."

* * *

That same evening, after Ali and Lindsey had left and Athena had been put down for an afternoon nap, Ali returned to the house alone.

"Hey," greeted Iain as his son walked in. "I didn't know you were coming back today."

Ali stopped in the entryway and rocked on his heels. Then he said, "Here to baby-sit."

Narcissa glanced up, raising a brow. "Baby-sit?" she asked, perplexed. "Why would you baby-sit?"

Ali pulled something out of his pocket and walked across the room, setting a piece of parchment down in front of Iain. He pointed. "Because you two have a dinner reservation."

Iain and Narcissa both stared.

"It's for seven," Ali told them with a small smirk. "So you'd better go get ready."

Iain picked up the piece of parchment, a flush on his cheeks. "Ali…"

But Ali was already on his way to the living room, and he fell down on the couch with a hand behind his head. "Go get ready!" he told them, before picking up a magazine. Iain chuckled and looked almost shyly to Narcissa.

"Would you… like to go?" he asked.

Narcissa bit her lip to hide her smile. "Dinner sounds lovely."

Iain pocketed the parchment with a somewhat bashful shrug. "Alright then," he said with a soft smile. Narcissa took one last look at Ali, who was watching them, and then she smiled before heading upstairs to change.

In her room, Narcissa quickly showered and changed, her heart fluttering non-stop. The restaurant Ali had written down was a wizarding one, so Narcissa put on a set of form-fitting robes in midnight blue. She had never had a reason to wear them before, and once they were on, she looked at herself in the mirror and let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

The robes had a lovely v-neck and were relatively thin, with fewer folds and layers than all her other robes. Narcissa gave her hair just a little curl and left it down so that it framed her face.

Then she looked down at her hand. With trembling fingertips, she touched the ring she'd worn for twenty-five years, the one that had tied her to Lucius. Finally, she tugged the fine ring off her finger and brought it to her lips, giving it one last kiss before she placed it in her jewelry box.

At last, she was ready.

Moments later, Narcissa descended the stairs to the living room, where the fading afternoon light washed it in warm shades of glowing orange and red. Iain was already there waiting for her, hands in the pockets of his Muggle slacks, a crimson button-up shirt on his torso. It was tucked in – miracle upon miracles – but unbuttoned at the very top, revealing the white t-shirt beneath.

As soon as he saw Narcissa, his eyes widened with an unmistakable look of appreciation.

"Are you ready?" asked Narcissa teasingly.

Iain blinked, and then a full smile spread over his face. He held out a hand to her.

"I've  _been_  ready," he told her with meaning.

As soon as Narcissa's hand touched his, they both disappeared.

* * *

The restaurant was in the wizarding district, the Swedish equivalent of Diagon Alley, which Narcissa had yet to see. Still, Iain first apparated them to the coastal shore with a Muggle town at its edge. Together, they walked hand in hand for a few feet until Iain came to an unremarkable section of beach.

Then he withdrew his wand and used it to make a symbol in the sand. Seconds later, the water in front of the symbol bubbled and popped, and the ocean began pulling back on both sides to reveal a path of completely dry sand. Narcissa's lips parted in disbelief as the water pulled further and further back, and Iain beamed at her before leading her down from the beach along the newly formed path.

The further they went down the path, the deeper they delved into the ocean. Walls of water on both sides climbed higher and higher as they walked the seafloor, and Narcissa could not help but look all around, gasping, as the water closed in behind them and they were completely enveloped by ocean on all sides.

"Merlin's beard," she said in disbelief.

When she looked up at the ceiling of ocean water, she could see the shadows of boats as they glided by overhead. Sparks of light in the distance showed the silhouettes of fish swimming right next to them, and at one point, a trio of fanged mermaids raced by, chasing after the fish with their gnarled hands extended.

Up ahead, a pocket of light appeared, and soon Narcissa and Iain were walking up a slow incline. The walls began to lower and shrink around them, and then – just like that – they were above the surface again, climbing up to meet an entirely different beach.

"Wow," breathed Narcissa.

In front of her, the magical district of Trollstenar came into view.

Rather than a series of streets and storefronts like Diagon Alley, Trollstenar was a massive switchback of rocky paths and stone temples built directly into a tree-covered mountainside. The beach Narcissa and Iain stood on was the bottom, but a set of dark stone steps stood in front of them, one going left and the other right. Both sides led to shops and restaurants and homes, and witches and wizards milled about all the way up the mountainside, sometimes disappearing briefly behind roiling waterfalls that cascaded off cliffs and poured into rivers that tucked back into the mountain, disappearing in the lush green forest.

The stone itself was dark and ancient, and many of the arches were covered with runes. Others had the likeness of a face, with the entryway an open mouth set beneath a pair of old eyes, likely etched thousands of years before. Trinkets in the forms of strange rocks on strings dangled from shop windows, and Narcissa turned sharply as a flock of ravens flew by overhead and perched all about. There was also a music that seemed near-constant, drums mixed with the call of a horn.

And on and on and on it went, seemingly for miles, straight up into the misty circle that gripped the mountain top.

"This is amazing," Narcissa told him, and Iain squeezed her hand.

"Where we're going is this way," he told her, bringing her up the left side of the steps. Together, they walked first one way, then the other, climbing steps for three or four levels until they reached a big opening that led further into one dark archway. Inside was a fine dining room with many witches and wizards eating and drinking.

Narcissa felt a thrill, particularly as she and Iain were seated. After that, everything seemed to happen in a surreal blur. She and Iain ate together and drank, talking of anything and everything, just as they had when they were younger. Narcissa got Iain to try some more refined wine, and he'd actually liked it, so she considered this a great success.

By the time they'd finished, night had fallen in earnest, and they left the restaurant to wander. The beautiful magical district was even more stunning by night, and Narcissa felt her senses come alive as they walked the rocky pathways, higher and higher until it seemed as if they were a part of the sky themselves, two stars in their rightful homes.

Narcissa moved out ahead of Iain and crossed under the shadow created by a waterfall. The water rushed right past her, and she moved out a hand, letting her fingertips brush it as she passed. She stopped under the comforting darkness of the fall, her back to Iain.

On the other side of the waterfall, at the edge of one dangerously high stone path, she saw the entire night sky laid out before her, and the ocean underneath it, reflecting every constellation in perfect clarity.

Narcissa looked on and on, until she was quite sure she could see the end of the world.

Then she shifted and looked over her shoulder at Iain. He was just a few feet away, watching her in that remarkable way of his – able to see the very best of her at all times, no matter how much Narcissa tried to hide it.

She extended a hand to him.

Iain stepped forward, putting his hand in hers, but instead of letting him come to her side, Narcissa gently pressed his hand behind her back and took his other hand in hers, looping them around her waist.

Iain pulled his arms completely around her, and she came to rest against his chest. Her eyes closed. She was at peace. She was in her home.

For a few moments, they were silent. Then Iain's grip on her tightened, and he whispered in her ear.

"I missed you so much," he told her.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, escaping her closed eyes. Her hands closed over his, her fingers on his knuckles, tight and unafraid. She turned in his arms and neither of them hesitated, even for a moment.

They kissed, wasting not a single moment before Narcissa's arms were around his neck and Iain's were completely wrapped around her. There was no shyness, no uncertainty, nothing but pure love between them as Narcissa curled her fingers tight in his shirt. Iain turned his head and deepened the kiss, an agonized sound escaping him, eyes closed tight, fingers pressed into Narcissa's robes. Their mouths slanted together and their tongues met, each motion more desperate, more passionate than the last.

Narcissa pulled away just enough to speak. "Get us home," she commanded against his lips.

The words were barely out of her mouth before Iain had pulled her flush against him and they'd Disapparated, appearing right in Iain's bedroom at home.

They'd barely touched the floor before Narcissa had Iain's shirt unbuttoned and pushed back off his broad shoulders, the white t-shirt coming right after it. Iain's mouth jumped to Narcissa's neck as he bunched up her robes and pulled them over her head, tossing them aside only a second before picking her up in his arms and laying her out on the bed, covering her in an instant.

Narcissa reached for him and they were together again, every kiss heated and deep, their skin flushed hot in anticipation. Narcissa's lips parted and her back arched as Iain's rough hands pushed over her bare torso and got rid of her bra, his mouth quickly taking the place of his hands as he kissed and suckled all the way down her body.

She needed him. She needed Iain Stewart like she had never needed anyone in her life, and the desire she felt nearly made her weep. Finally, Iain's pants were on the floor, and their bare bodies pressed flush against each other, making Iain groan. Narcissa curled her fingers down the center of his chest, her lips moving to his collarbone before they were against his mouth again.

"Please," she murmured, dizzy with need, and Iain reached one strong arm around her before pressing into her. There was no preparation needed; both of their bodies were heated and slick with desire, and Iain pressed completely into her in one smooth thrust that left them both shaking.

Narcissa arched her back with a cry of pleasure, her toes curling against the sheets. Iain bowed his head against her chest and wasted no time thrusting, exchanging their quick and heated movements from before with slow and languid thrusts that seemed to press against every erotic nerve in Narcissa's body.

"God, Narcissa," groaned Iain, his lips on her neck, leaving marks on the porcelain skin all the way down to her collarbone. Her fingernails pressed into his back, her hips moving with his, her legs coming up to wrap completely around him. His hands roamed her breasts and took hold of her hips, squeezing and rubbing every sensitive part of her.

Then he moved close over her again, torso to torso, and captured her lips with his as his thrusts shifted into a slow grind. The pleasure exploded through Narcissa, and she clenched her legs around him with a cry. Iain gasped and jerked his hips forward only twice more before he finished with a groan, his head bowed against her shoulder.

For several moments, they simply rested against one another, Iain keeping most of his weight on his elbows. When he was able, he pulled out of her and shifted to the side, gathering her in his arms even as Narcissa curled up against him. The room was quiet and peaceful, with stars twinkling outside the windows and the sounds of the wind stirring the tree branches.

After a few minutes, Narcissa shifted to look up at him. Her lips brushed his chin.

"I missed you, too."

Iain met her gaze and smiled gently. His hand reached up and brushed a damp piece of hair back from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek.

"Thank god," he whispered with a soft chuckle, and pulled her tighter to him.

* * *

Downstairs, Ali Stewart was listening to his CD player on full blast.

"Two seconds," he muttered darkly, sending a glare in the direction of Iain's bedroom. "Silencing charms take  _two bloody seconds_!"


	27. Chapter 27

Author's Note: Last chapter, lovelies. I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

_Over the next few weeks, I came to life._

_It was no exaggeration to say that I felt re-born, a newer Narcissa than had ever existed before. The love I had for Iain filled my days with the sort of joy I had only ever dreamed of. Each night, we went to bed in each other's arms, and each morning, we awoke with smiles. We could not believe that after such a very long time, we were together now, free to touch and embrace and kiss whenever we liked._

_For the first time ever, I felt like I was living my own life and not someone else's. It was everything I wanted… except that my Draco was not there with me._

_All my happiness, all my comfort, all my great and indescribable joy, was muted by my anxiety for him._

_And so as June approached, I grew more and more anxious. Without Iain's hand there to steady me, I might have rushed back to England out of fear, determined to find my son and protect him._

_But instead, we waited. It was a decision I would – for a time – come to regret._

* * *

Narcissa opened her eyes.

The morning outside was grey and dismal, with a light rain just starting as the sun struggled to rise beyond the dark clouds. The past few days had been gathering together a storm, and it would seem that today was the day it had seen fit to arrive. Narcissa's lips quirked. She did not mind the storm. It could not touch her in here.

Shifting in the bed, Narcissa brought up her arms and curled them against Iain's bare chest.

Iain was still dozing, but he moved in his sleep and curled his arm tighter around her. The rain outside caused the normally hot day to cool considerably, and Narcissa tucked her face into his collarbone, stealing away his warmth when she could. The raindrops on the window created a soft steady hum, and Narcissa shifted her eyes just enough to watch as it speckled the window facing the lake with blue-grey droplets. A tree branch just visible through the glass stirred and groaned against the wind, and sometimes the tip of it scratched along the windowpane.

Inside the room, though, everything was still and quiet. Athena slept soundly in her crib in the corner, the stuffed dragon Iain had sent to Draco so many years before tucked into the corner near her strawberry-blonde head.

When Narcissa's eyes shifted away from the window, she saw Iain was watching her.

"Morn," he murmured, trailing his fingers along her spine.

"It's raining," whispered Narcissa, eyes twinkling. "I suppose you're not working today."

"I can work in the rain," teased Iain with a grin, but Narcissa had already shifted over him, pressing her hands over his wrists as if she could keep him there with brute strength.

"No, you can't," she informed him quietly, a wicked smirk taking over her features. She dropped her lips to his neck. "It's too dangerous…" she murmured, moving her mouth along to his collarbone. "You could… slip and fall…" Her lips trailed lower. "Or get struck by lightning…"

She kissed the center of his stomach, and Iain inhaled sharply.

"… I'm afraid I simply cannot allow it," she finished, before moving back up the length of his body.

Iain pulled his strong arms around her and tugged her flush against him as their mouths met. "You're the boss," he murmured when their lips parted for a moment. Narcissa clenched her knees around him and pressed their hips together, causing Iain to groan.

"You are quite right," she whispered, curling her fingers and dragging them down the skin of his torso. When he bucked up against her, she felt how hard he was. It absolutely delighted her to know she could get him riled so easily. Then again, he could do the same to her – not that she'd let him know it, of course.

Narcissa reached down for her nightgown and pulled it up over her head, her long hair spilling over her shoulders as she dropped the fabric to the side. Iain pushed his rough hands along her hips and up her ribs, squeezing at the most sensitive parts of her as she reached between them and he lurched up, pressing inside of her. Narcissa's lips parted with a gasp, and Merlin, how could he feel so good? It was so much more than physical pleasure, so much more satisfying than sex had ever been in her life.

Perhaps it was the weather outside, which urged them to stay in bed and be lazy, or just the knowledge that the only person in the house was Athena, who didn't need them at the moment, but Narcissa and Iain took their time that morning – loving, holding, kissing, embracing. Narcissa simply closed her eyes and let herself feel, and she could have been struck blind in that moment and still known what each part of Iain looked like, how his hands flexed over her or his body rolled in sync with hers. The expression on his face – such a mirror image of the sixteen-year-old boy who had been kind to her when he had no reason to be – was all forever burned into her memory, and she worshipped it.

A little while later, when they had finished their lovemaking at last and fallen back into the bedsheets, Iain and Narcissa curled into each other's arms and watched the rain fall with all the satisfaction in the world.

* * *

At the end of May, the girls came home from school again.

This time, Narcissa went with Iain to go and pick them up. Ali and Lindsey – who had taken to coming over with Ali, and who Narcissa liked more and more each time she visited – were watching Athena. That day, Iain and Narcissa drove for over two hours and eventually came to what appeared to be a very old forest. It had tall trees with massive roots that spread out like tangled webs of bark, and once the road ended, Iain and Narcissa got out and walked the rest of the way along an earthen path lined with strange crystal stones.

At last, they came to an open clearing that had many families waiting in it. In front of them, sitting in the center of the clearing, was a colossal ash tree with only three roots, all of which were around three stories high and jutting in opposite directions. The tree was noticeably different than all the rest, and to Narcissa, it looked like a grandfather watching over its children.

Even as the wind stirred the branches of the lesser trees around it, the center tree moved and shifted on its own volition, reminding Narcissa of the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts. It seemed very aware of their presence, and sometimes it moved closer to the sky, which was shrouded by its giant leaves.

Finally, the tree curled forward with purpose, pulling its large branches with a groan and sweeping them along the dirt. Once it had done this, the branches lifted again, and now there was a door at the center of the tree's trunk.

The door opened, and out poured witch and wizard children in uniforms.

Iain and Narcissa waited for the girls to emerge, and when they did, Rose spotted them both quickly. She let out a happy gasp and pointed. Faris followed her line of sight immediately, and the two girls sprinted from the rest of the crowd, rushing into Iain and Narcissa's arms with delighted squeals.

"Oh hello!" exclaimed Narcissa happily, hugging Faris in her arms while Iain picked up Rose and swung her around.

"There's my girls," said Iain with a grin, grabbing Faris next while Rose jumped to Narcissa. The two immediately began chattering rapidly in Swedish, which Narcissa could only understand every fifth word of – but it was an improvement, and she got the general idea, so she just laughed and nodded as they all walked the stone-lined path back to the car.

"We are going to have so much fun this summer!" said Rose excitedly in English. She held Narcissa's hand with one of hers and Iain's with the other.

"Yes!" exclaimed Faris in agreement, swinging the hand of Iain's she was holding. "Much fun!"

Narcissa and Iain got the excited girls home, and they turned their attention to Ali, who snatched them both off the ground as soon as they walked through the door. The girls laughed and shrieked happily before Ali put them down and introduced them to Lindsey. Rose got a little shy at the arrival of a new person, and Narcissa giggled internally when she hid behind her.

"Lindsey is very sweet," she told Rose with a comforting hand to her head. "You will love her!"

Of course, Lindsey won them over rather quickly, and they all had dinner together that night before Ali and Lindsey left.

Over the next week, the girls adjusted to being back at home, and they spent a great deal of their time swimming, running around outside, fishing with Iain, playing dress-up with Narcissa, or giggling with Athena.

It was such a very happy time, and Narcissa absolutely delighted in it.

She and Iain worried a little what the girls might think of them being together, so much so that Iain procrastinated telling them for the first week. One day, though, Faris said, "Dad, Rose and I want our own rooms now. We are big. We need space."

Iain glanced up from where he was standing in the kitchen with a sandwich. "Uh, well, we only have three bedrooms in the house," he said cautiously.

"I know," said Faris. "I can sleep in Ali's old room, and Rose can keep ours."

Iain put his hands on his hips and rocked on his heels. "Ali's room is … where … Narcissa sleeps."

"No she doesn't!" piped up Rose unexpectedly. "Narcissa sleeps in your room!"

Narcissa and Iain glanced at each other.

"Soooooo," cut in Faris pointedly. "Can I have it or not? Please, Dad! We will be teenagers in just one month! We need our  _space_."

Rose nodded in agreement.

Iain glanced at Narcissa, biting his lip to keep from laughing. Narcissa giggled and shrugged.

"Fine, whatever," said Iain at last, and both girls cheered before jumping up and running to their room to start separating their things.

"We are not good at hiding anything," commented Iain wryly.

"It's you who's not good at it," Narcissa pointed out with a smirk. "I am an expert."

* * *

So Faris moved into Ali's old room, and Rose re-decorated her newly un-shared room to her own liking. This gave Narcissa and the girls quite a lot of fun things to do, and Iain was set to work building new vanities for each of the girls, who both had decided that these were now necessities.

"Gee, I wonder where they got that idea," Iain remarked dryly, and Narcissa shrugged and smiled innocently.

This was what occupied most of their time in the days after Faris and Rose came home, and Narcissa was having quite a fun time.

Their joyful time, however, ended rather abruptly.

On the last evening in May, Narcissa and the girls sat around the kitchen table with several small boxes filled with ribbons and plastic jewels, which they affixed to various decorations for their rooms.

Ali was over, and they had just finished having dinner together. Iain and Ali lingered in the living room, talking in between news reports over the radio. The reports were in Swedish and far too fast for Narcissa to understand, so she never bothered to listen.

In the living room, Iain reclined on the couch with Ali standing near it, fiddling with a pocket knife as he and Iain listened to the usual reports.

"…  _in international news, British Head of Muggleborn Registration Draco Malfoy was found dead in his home some weeks ago, according to late reports out of London… "_

Ali froze, and Iain, who had been relaxed on the couch, tensed instantly. Their eyes met. Slowly, Iain sat up on the couch and looked across the room to where Narcissa sat with the girls, blissfully unaware of the radio's broadcast. Even Draco's name had been buried under the garble of the radio and the constant chatter of the girls.

Iain stared at her, unable to move.

Finally, Ali shifted around the couch, his features solemn. "I'm going to take the girls to my flat," he whispered to Iain in Swedish. Iain blinked and looked up at Ali before he managed to nod.

"Alright," Iain said numbly, pushing himself off the couch.

Narcissa, who had been fully concentrating on her crafting, looked up as Ali approached and held out both hands. "Faris, Rose, come on. We're going to my place."

The girls looked up in confusion. "Why?" asked Rose. "We're doing some – "

"Now!" said Ali firmly, and Narcissa balked, startled.

Quickly, the girls jumped up from the table and went to Ali, who met Narcissa's eyes for a quick moment. The expression she saw there made her stomach lurch. As soon as the girls touched his hands, Ali bowed his head and vanished. Faris and Rose disappeared with him.

Once they were gone, Narcissa saw Iain standing near the table, his hands in his pockets.

"Cissa…" he said softly.

Narcissa rose from her spot, her chest cold. "What is it?" she asked. "What's going on?"

Iain shifted and glanced at the radio. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, and Narcissa's hands twitched at her sides. "Narcissa," he started again. "The radio just reported that – there was news out of London, and – " He stopped only for a moment, but Narcissa rushed forward.

"Tell me!" she demanded.

Iain met her gaze. "Narcissa, I'm sorry."

Her heart collapsed.

"The news said he was found dead in his home," Iain managed just before he was drowned out by Narcissa's agonized sob. Her knees gave out, and she sank to the floor before being caught by Iain, who hauled her back up and over to the couch. Narcissa registered none of it.

"No!" cried out Narcissa, heaving as she collapsed against him on the couch. "No, they can't – it can't be – "

"Maybe it's wrong," tried Iain desperately, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Agony ripped through her, a heated anguish that crippled her so that she was nothing more than her pain. " _Nooo_!" she sobbed against his chest, incomprehensible now as she cried so hard she felt her stomach turn. " _Why did I leave him, Iain_?" she cried out, gripping him with all of her strength. "Why didn't I  _protect_  any of my children? Why did I let them all  _die_?"

Iain looked at her, stricken, but there was nothing he could say. Instead, he simply gathered Narcissa in her arms while she completely broke down, crying until she could no longer make noise or keep her eyes open.

"I'm sorry, Narcissa," he murmured tearfully against her hair. "I'm so sorry."

Narcissa did not hear him. She did not even know he was there.

* * *

Narcissa was not sure how long or how much she existed in those days that followed. She did not register the rising or setting of the sun, nor did she think about where she was or what she was doing. Had Iain not been there to care for Athena, the little girl might have gone ignored.

It seemed to Narcissa that time had ceased to exist, but in reality, only three days had passed since hearing of Draco's death. The day dawned bright and beautiful, but Narcissa did not register it. Instead, she sat on the bed on top of the sheets and stared blankly, thinking quite clearly back on the day Draco had walked for the first time.

A cry from the corner of the room managed – with some effort – to pierce her thoughts. It was Athena, swatting at the air and crying to be held. For a few minutes, Narcissa simply watched. Iain would likely be back soon. He always came back.

Then, finally, Narcissa heard Ginny's voice in her head.

_What happens if we fail? If we're lost…_

She'd been talking about the baby. How long ago that seemed.

_Then I will raise it. I swear it to you. I will give it the best life possible._

That had been Narcissa's promise to Ginny.

But Ginny had made a promise, too. She was supposed to protect Draco. She was supposed to keep him safe. Narcissa had  _trusted_  her to keep him  _safe_.

"FUCKING BITCH!" Narcissa screamed suddenly, picking up a book and hurling it at the wall. It hit with a thud, and Athena wailed louder in her crib. Iain was through the door in an instant, and he found Narcissa curled over her own knees on the bed, ignoring Athena's cries. He paused for just a moment, and then he came in, lifting Athena up in his arms and then moving over to the sobbing Narcissa.

"Narcissa," he said quietly but firmly, taking her hand in his free one. "Hey, look at me."

Narcissa lifted her teary gaze to Iain, and he sat down on the bed with her still holding Athena in his arm. "Narcissa… Please, just hold Athena. Hold her and remember what you still have. I'm begging you."

Narcissa trembled. She had been afraid to even look at Athena since she learned of Draco's death. The little girl looked so like him. She was not sure if her heart could stand it.

She shook her head quickly, but Iain didn't leave. He squeezed her hand and tilted his head, catching her eyes again.

"You promised to take care of her," he reminded her. "You're her grandmother. She needs you."

In Iain's arms, Athena blinked up at Narcissa with a wizened look, as if she were silently agreeing with his words.

Narcissa peered at the baby's face, including her wide grey eyes, so like Draco's. After what felt like a lifetime, she shifted forward and accepted Athena into her arms. The baby immediately settled against her, comfortable and relaxed, warm and alive.

Tears spilled down Narcissa's cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered at last to baby Athena. "That wasn't about you, sweet girl…"

Then she held her close in an embrace, tucking her cheek against Athena's soft head. Iain put a hand on Narcissa's arm and then wrapped her up, so that she and Athena rested against his chest. Narcissa could not bring herself to say anything, but she held Athena close, and that made things just a little bit better…

…even as her heart ached, breaking off piece by piece, falling away into that cavernous pit she had so long ago dedicated to all her pain.

* * *

_Take a deep breath. You are alright. This is the depression._

Narcissa opened her eyes, got out of the bed, and moved through the motions she knew she ought.

_Find joy in everyday things._

Narcissa tried so hard. Sometimes, when Faris curled up next to her on the couch or Rose tucked against her in a hug, it felt close to joy. But not quite.

_Self-care is absolutely essential. You must make yourself do these things._

It felt mechanical, but Narcissa forced herself to get up, get dressed, fix her hair.

_Spend time outside whenever possible._

This was easiest. Sitting on the swing near the lake with Iain was the closest she felt to peace.

_Do not isolate yourself._

Narcissa accepted the hands in hers, the hugs, the companionship of Iain and his family. Her body ached, but they were a balm.

_Know, above all else, that you are worthy of happiness._

This, unfortunately, proved to be the hardest. Because Narcissa was not sure it was true… not anymore.

* * *

_**June 5, 2001** _

Today was Draco's twentieth birthday.

Narcissa sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in front of her. Athena sat next to her in her highchair, happily painting a picture of green mush on the plate with her handful of baby food. Iain came in from outside, holding a cup of coffee.

"Morn," he said, kissing Narcissa's cheek.

Narcissa managed a small smile. "Good morning," she said softly, touching his hand and holding it to her chest for a moment. Iain moved around the back of her chair and slipped his arms around her, leaning over so that he could lean around her and kiss her temple.

"I love you," he murmured.

Narcissa closed her eyes and fought the urge to cry. "I love you too," she whispered, relieved when she was able to feel gratitude for having him there, instead of just soul-crushing numbness. Iain's lips quirked, and he pulled away gently as the girls came downstairs for breakfast.

"Good morning!" said Faris, and Rose went straight to Narcissa.

"Do you want to go pick flowers today for crowns, Narcissa?" she asked, and Narcissa looked over at her, blinking a few times before she swallowed hard and touched Rose's hand.

"That would be lovely," she managed at last.

Rose beamed. "We will make the prettiest, okay? For princesses."

Narcissa smiled softly.

As usual, Ali appeared shortly after. The girls had spent a few days with him after that fateful night, but now he simply came over during the day much as he had before. It helped Narcissa to have them all there, if for no other reason than because it was distracting. They seemed to sense this, Iain and his children, and so they kept quite busy all the time and did their best to include Narcissa.

From his spot, Iain glanced up at the window as an owl flew by. His brows furrowed.

Stepping around the chattering girls, Iain wandered outside, where the early morning light poured brilliantly over the large lake. Eyebrow quirked, Iain tilted his head at the sky when he saw yet another owl fly by bearing a letter in his talons.

Owls during the day were unusual. What was even more unusual was seeing them in flocks. Iain balked, brows furrowed. "What in the hell…" he muttered when an entire swarm of owls flew by overhead before spreading out to various houses. Across the lake, Iain saw figures emerge from their homes and send sparks up into the air. He could hear their joyful shouting from his lawn.

"What the hell is going on?" Iain asked himself, now more than thoroughly curious.

Just then, something triggered the wards around his house.

Instantly alert, Iain pulled out his wand and shifted around, peering at the woods that surrounded his property. He moved a few steps and then – after a moment's hesitation – he rounded the corner of his home only to come face to face with two equally startled people.

Iain stumbled to a stop, his eyes wide.

There was a moment of silence. And then –

"Holy  _shit_ , you look just like Lucius."

Draco Malfoy stared right back. "Are they here?" he asked, even as Ginny looked all around.

Iain let out an incredulous laugh and then turned, hurrying back into the house. "NARCISSA!" he called out when he didn't immediately see her. "NARCISSA, COME HERE!"

Narcissa appeared from the laundry room. "Iain, goodness! What are you yell – "

She stopped when Draco and Ginny Malfoy appeared at the door. The rag she'd been holding fell out of her hands.

There, in front of her, stood her precious Draco, the light of her life, the keeper of her heart.

"We did it, Mother," said Draco with a thick swallow. "Voldemort is dead."

Narcissa barely heard him. She was already rushing across the room and right into his arms. Draco was ready for her, and as soon as she was there he had her tight in his embrace, face tucked against her shoulder.

"I thought you were dead!" cried out Narcissa, sobbing.

"I'm sorry – I'm sorry, Mother, we – I had to hide – "

Narcissa lifted her head to look at him, to touch his face, to make sure he was real, and oh, he was – he was  _here_  – She looked to Ginny, and without a moment's hesitation, she yanked the girl into her arms and embraced her as well.

Ginny laughed and hugged Narcissa back, sniffling. A moment later, she looked up to see Iain holding a freshly-cleaned baby girl in his arms.

"I think someone else missed you, too," Iain said with a grin.

"ATHENA!" Ginny exclaimed, rushing to the little girl and taking her in her arms. Draco was at her side in an instant, and they both instantly succumbed to tears.

"Look how big she is," whispered Draco in awe.

Narcissa watched with her hands pressed over her face, and then she realized Iain was at her side. She turned to him and he pulled her into his arms, murmuring to her as he held her face with both hands.

"See, I told you," he whispered over and over again, smiling widely. "I told you it would be okay, didn't I?"

"Oh, Iain…" Narcissa pressed her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. She felt Rose and Faris at her side, and she hugged them both close. Ali grinned broadly from his spot, where he sat on the back of the couch.

Sniffling, Narcissa looked up to see Draco watching her.

Despite the joy of the reunion, his expression was quite severe. Narcissa glanced quickly at Iain and then pulled away from him with a soft smile.

"Goodness," said Narcissa, swiping at her face. Suddenly, she needed something to do, right in that instant. "You know what? We should start breakfast now!" Breathing in deeply, Narcissa reached over for Draco and Ginny, tugging them over to the kitchen table. "Here, here, sit with Athena." She brushed her hands over their faces lovingly, eyes filling with tears again. "Rest, we can talk when you've eaten."

Draco and Ginny did as they were told, and Faris and Rose immediately jumped into action.

"Oh, can we have French toast?"

"I want Belgian waffles!"

Ali was up too. "Where is the sugar, Narcissa?"

"We can have both, come on – Ali, grab that for me – "

"Whereeeee issss the sugarrrrrr?"

"For the love of god, Ali, it's in the pantry where it's always been – "

"Faris, grab the mixing bowl please – "

"I want to help mix!"

Narcissa began her work with a flurry, Ali finally made his cup of coffee, Iain gently prodded Faris out of the way, and Draco and Ginny stared.

"What," said Draco in disbelief, "in the hell is Mother doing?"

Ginny blinked rapidly. "I think she's cooking, love."

Draco looked all around. "Did – did we come to the right house?"

Iain looked up and then extended a hand to the young couple. "Oh, by the way, I'm Iain. That's my son Ali, and these are my daughters Faris and Rose."

Draco made no move to respond to this, so Ginny quickly took Iain's hand. "I'm Ginny, and this is Draco, of course. Seriously, we can't thank you enough for what you did. You're bloody amazing!"

Someone shrieked in the kitchen. "GET YOUR HAND OUT OF THE BATTER – "

Iain ignored the chaos. "No thanks necessary. I'm just really,  _really_  glad you're both safe," he said with a laugh. "Really, just relax here. We'll …settle down in a minute." He turned back to observe the kitchen just as Rose dumped a bunch of powdered sugar on the floor on accident.

Iain dragged a hand down his face as Ginny snickered.

"Or more than a few minutes," he admitted to them before going to help.

Breakfast ended up taking only about fifteen minutes to fix, but at last, everything was prepared and Narcissa got it all on the table, talking rapidly and happily to Draco and Ginny the entire time. Draco only responded occasionally. His eyes were on Iain the entire time.

"Jesus," whispered Ali to Iain in Swedish as they stood at the sink. He was looking at Draco. "That kid is intense as hell. Look at him. He's freaking me out."

Iain glanced back briefly at Draco before shifting back to Ali again. "He's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" repeated Ali incredulously. "He looks like he wants to murder you."

Iain grabbed their silverware from the drawer. "Ali, he's twenty years old, he's been through hell, and his father died just a year and a half ago. I don't blame him for not liking me. Give him a break."

"Fine," said Ali as they walked in the direction of the table. "But when you wake up to him standing over your sleeping body with a big ass wrench in hand, don't say I didn't warn you."

They all sat down at the table together.

Iain instructed the girls to go eat in the living room, knowing what the adults were likely to discuss, and Narcissa sat next to Draco and smiled again, squeezing his hand. This softened his expression some. Ginny sat next to him with Athena in her lap. The little girl hadn't left her or Draco's arms since they'd walked in.

"What are you wearing?" Draco asked Narcissa rather flatly.

Narcissa glanced down at her dress and flushed a bit. "It's – Muggle clothes. Helps me blend in more."

Draco had no response to this, so he turned his attention to his tea. Ginny dug into her food with the type of enthusiasm Narcissa had come to expect from her when it came to food, but Draco's breakfast remained untouched.

"So," said Ali, swallowing a mouthful of waffles, "can we ask what happened… or?"

Draco and Ginny looked at each other. Finally, it was Draco who spoke up.

"For the last several months, Ginny and I have been working with a team of American Aurors to help us overtake the new Ministry – and the Dark Lord, of course. We also recovered as many prisoners as we could and kept them in a safehouse."

"Draco used his position at the Ministry to help transport Muggleborns to safety as well," chimed in Ginny, shifting to give Draco a proud smile. "He saved hundreds of people, including loads of kids."

Narcissa wiped at another tear and beamed. "Oh, darling. How wonderful of you."

"I had a lot of help," admitted Draco, shifting in his chair. His lips quirked just a little. "Anyway, we got together as many people as we could, and to make a very long story short, we attacked the Dark Lord at Hogwarts and defeated him."

" _How_?" asked Iain incredulously. "I mean, I didn't think he could just be – bested in a duel…"

Draco's eyes flickered to Iain's. "Well, having the Elder Wand helped."

Ali snorted, before he seemed to realize Draco was serious. "The Elder Wand?" he asked, before looking between them all. "I thought that was – just a children's bedtime story."

"It's real," confirmed Ginny. "It's a lot to go into, but the main reason we were able to do what we did is because Draco had control of the wand and not Voldemort. He's already turned it into the Ministry of Magic, though. Best not to have it lying around."

"The most important thing is that the Dark Lord is dead," finished Draco quietly. "For good, this time."

Narcissa listened thoughtfully. After a few moments of silence, she asked tentatively, "… And what of Bellatrix?"

Ginny toyed with her fork. "Bellatrix is dead."

Narcissa lowered her eyes, a small sad smile on her features. "I figured as much," she admitted softly. She saw Iain move as if to reach for her, but he seemed to think better of it and kept his hands on the table. It was strange that she would feel sad at Bellatrix's death, but she did. They'd been sisters, and Bellatrix had been her only constant for so long.

Still, her sister had brought this on herself.

"Damien Black is dead, too," commented Draco almost casually. "I killed him myself. And my only regret is that I couldn't do it more than once."

Ali subtly shifted his chair a little further away from Draco's.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then Ginny smiled. "But plenty of the good ones survived. And Narcissa, Andromeda and Ted both lived! They can't wait to see you."

"Ted?" repeated Iain thoughtfully. "Ted who?"

Narcissa's lips quirked at a smile. "Ted Tonks."

"Really?" said Iain excitedly. "Oh, man. Ted was my prefect in school!"

"You went to Hogwarts?" asked Ginny with delight.

"I did," said Iain.

"And you were in Hufflepuff?" asked Draco with clear disdain.

Narcissa's eyes flickered over to him, while Iain paused and then, with the same smile, nodded. "I was, yes." He hesitated before going on, "I was in the same year as your mother. We've been friends for a long time."

"That's funny," said Draco icily. "She's never mentioned you once."

"Draco – " started Narcissa, but Draco was already up and away from the table, his food uneaten. Without another word, he left the room and walked outside through the front door.

Ginny winced. "Sorry," she said sincerely to Iain. "He hasn't taken his nice-people vitamins today."

Iain shook his head with an easy smile. "It's okay," he said quietly to Ginny. "I don't blame him for being upset."

Narcissa sighed, her eyes lowering. Iain patted her hand.

"Maybe I should go talk to him," she said, but she stayed where she was. If she went outside to talk to Draco right then, and he questioned her feelings for Iain, she was not sure she would – or could – lie about it.

"Nah, stay here," said Ali, standing away from the table. He dumped his dishes in the sink.

Outside, Draco Malfoy stood near the tree and looked out over the lake, his features hard. A rustle caught his attention, and he turned his grim expression in the direction of Ali Stewart.

"Hey there," said Ali. He pointed. "You look like you need a drink."

Draco glared. "It's nine-thirty in the morning," he pointed out flatly.

"Which is exactly why I have – " Ali shifted to show him, " – mimosas!" He poured a glass of champagne and topped it off with about three drops of orange juice before handing it off to Draco. Draco refused to take it for a moment, but Ali stayed where he was, so Draco scowled and took the glass. Ali quickly made his own and took a long drink.

"Mm, bless whoever thought it was socially acceptable to get drunk at breakfast," he commented.

Draco stared straightforward and refused to look at his companion. He did sip at his drink, though.

"Thank you, by the way," said Ali after a moment. "For saving the world, I mean."

Draco took another longer drink of his glass. "Well, I didn't do it for you," was his response.

"Holy  _hell_ ," exclaimed Ali. "You are one cold bastard, you know that? I guess you get that from your father."

Draco turned to face him swiftly, eyes deeply narrowed.

"I'm just assuming," went on Ali casually, not reacting to Draco's hostility, "because I happen to know your mother is an incredibly kind person – you know, underneath it all." Draco clenched his fists, and Ali waited a moment before continuing. "You know what else I know about your mother?" he asked.

Draco set his jaw and said nothing.

Ali shifted his glass in his hands before saying seriously, "She would set herself on fire just to keep you warm."

This caused Draco to pause, and his eyes shifted away from Ali to glare at the lake.

"Why are you lecturing me about my own mother?" asked Draco at last, sweeping his cold grey eyes back to Ali.

Ali took a moment to respond. At last, he sighed and shifted so that he was watching the lake with Draco.

"I lost a parent too, you know." Ali glanced sidelong at Draco. "My mother died when I was fifteen. One minute, she was diagnosed with cancer, and it seemed like – the  _next damn day_  – she was gone." He sipped from his glass. "My dad really loved her. And he was devastated when she died. Wouldn't even get out of bed." Ali paused. "He might have never gotten over it, if not for your mother. She went to his mum – a Muggle – and sent her here to help him take care of us. Your mother - Narcissa, she did that for him all those years ago."

Draco glanced at Ali quickly before looking back at the lake.

"They weren't together then," Ali pointed out quietly. "But they've always been – something to each other. Something really, really important. And my dad is a damn good guy. You should… get to know him."

Draco said nothing.

Ali turned to face Draco. "None of this means your parents didn't love each other."

"My mother  _did_  love my father," snapped Draco, finally facing Ali. They stood looking at one another, and Draco's hard gaze flickered. Together, they looked in the direction of the house. Iain and Narcissa were standing together, talking, visible through the open door. Draco shook his head with a quiet sigh.

"…but she never looked at him like that," he muttered at last.

Ali glanced back at Draco and his lips quirked. "You going to be the one to stop her?" he asked, as Draco met his gaze. "Because you could be."

Draco looked back at Iain and Narcissa.

"Come on, mate," said Ali. "If today isn't the day to be happy and grateful, then when is?"

Draco's body shifted and then – after a tense moment – relaxed some. "Perhaps," he said in a quiet mutter. They stayed where the were, drinking their mimosas. "I just don't get it," said Draco, surprising Ali. "They seem so different."

Ali cocked a brow. "Not to state the obvious, but you and your wife seem pretty different, too."

At that moment, Ginny came rushing by at full-speed, sprinted down the dock, and then leaped straight into the lake with a loud scream. She was still fully-dressed, too.

Draco watched with a shake of his head. "Oh, you don't have to tell me," he responded wryly. He polished off the rest of his drink and then handed it to Ali as Iain and Narcissa came outside. Draco hesitated, and then after a moment, he stepped forward.

"Iain," he said a bit gruffly.

Iain and Narcissa looked up as Draco approached. There was a moment of stillness, and then Draco extended his hand stiffly.

"I never did thank you," said Draco evenly. "You kept my mother and daughter safe. I – I appreciate it."

Iain smiled, instantly taking Draco's hand and shaking it firmly. "No thanks necessary," he told him with a nod. Narcissa watched with a broadening smile, and when Draco dropped his hand and gave Iain a somewhat uncomfortable but polite nod, she reached over and hugged him to her again. Draco wrapped his arms around her and held tight.

A wet squishing sound drew everyone's attention, and Narcissa turned to see Ginny standing next to them all, sopping wet. She even had a twig sticking out of her hair.

"What'd I miss?" she asked.

Draco shook his head at her. "I don't know, Ginny," he said sardonically. "Maybe lessons on how to act like a civilized human being?"

"Aw, Draco, you sound like you need a hug."

"Ginny, I swear to Merlin – "

"Come here to your wife –"

"Ginny, don't you dare!"

Ginny hugged him so tightly it squeezed more water out of her robes, and Draco shuddered while Ali and Iain burst out laughing.

"There, there, sweetheart," grinned Ginny, petting Draco's head with a hand covered in lake water and dirt.

"I want a divorce," deadpanned Draco.

"BUT I LOVE YOU!"

Draco wiggled away and groaned at his wet robes, and Ginny laughed loudly as he stomped off. Ginny sighed wistfully. "He's like a prince from a storybook," she said dreamily.

"Do you see this?" said Narcissa, waving her hand wildly at Iain and Ali. "The sheer amount of  _Weasley_  I have to put up with? But does anyone pity Narcissa? Oh, no…"

* * *

Ginny and Draco stayed for a week, relaxing away from the war-torn England. Draco remained rather short with Iain, but each day, he grew a little less terse.

Ali took Ginny and Draco sailing, and they all went together to the magical shopping district so Draco and Ginny could see. The week was spent playing together, laughing, and enjoying the relief that finally –  _finally_  came from being all together again.

Narcissa and Iain kept the PDA down as much as possible, but it was hard not to smile when she looked at him, not to take his hand when he was near or fall into his arms as soon as he was standing still.

Finally, after nearly a week at Iain's house, Draco and Ginny announced it was time to leave.

"We have to go pick up our other daughter," said Draco.

Narcissa stared. "What – I thought that was a joke!"

"Nope," said Ginny with a grin. "We adopted a little Muggleborn girl we rescued several months ago. Her name is Maggie." Ginny showed them the picture of Maggie holding Athena when she was still a newborn.

"Good lord," said Narcissa, astonished. "How old is she?"

"Seven," replied Draco easily.

Ali snorted. "I bet I have a seven-year-old somewhere." Narcissa and Iain hit him at the same time from opposite sides. "Ow!"

"So anyway," went on Ginny, snickering. "You have another granddaughter to meet, Narcissa."

"I can't believe you two are taking on the care of a seven-year-old," said Narcissa, shaking her head. "You're teenagers!"

"Not me," pointed out Draco. "I'm twenty, remember? Thanks for remembering the birthday of your one and only child, by the way."

Narcissa glared at him. "I remembered! I just – you arrived on that day and – oh, hush!"

Draco smirked. "Well, we're leaving first thing in the morning. We've got a lot to do." He rose from his chair and picked up Athena, taking her away with him upstairs to get ready for bed. They had been staying in Ali's old room (which now belonged to Faris).

Narcissa glanced quickly at Iain, who seemed to be deep in thought. He rose from his chair and extended a hand to her, which she accepted. Together, they walked outside. Night had settled nicely, and the sky above them sparkled with distant stars.

They stopped at the water's edge.

"Tomorrow, huh?" he said.

Narcissa looked over at him. "Yes," she said softly. "I imagine they miss England."

Iain nodded slowly. "Yeah, I bet – you probably do, too."

Narcissa's lips quirked. "A little," she admitted. There was a long pause. Her eyes shifted over to Iain, who was staring hard at the lake. His hand in hers was a little tense. Turning to face him, Narcissa stepped closer and tucked into his side.

"Iain," she said very softly. He looked at her, meeting her eyes with his. Narcissa smiled tenderly. "All you have to do is ask," she whispered.

Iain stared at her, and then a slow smile spread over his face. He reached down, taking her hand in his and lacing their fingers.

"Narcissa." He looked over her face lovingly. "Will you stay with me?"

Narcissa's smile broadened. "Yes, Iain," she murmured.

Iain's smile grew as well. "Forever?" he asked coyly, sweeping her hair back from her face.

"Forever," confirmed Narcissa.

Iain's features took on a special kind of delight. "Oh good," he said lightly, before reaching in his pocket and pulling something out. "Because I bought this weeks ago."

Narcissa's eyes widened, her lips parting in disbelief as she spotted the beautiful diamond ring in his hand. She gasped and looked back up at him.

"I think we've waited long enough," Iain said tenderly. "Don't you?"

Narcissa felt tears cloud her eyes, and she pressed her hand to her mouth for a moment before she nodded. "Yes," she agreed whole-heartedly. "I certainly do."

* * *

And so, just one month later, Narcissa and Iain finally fulfilled the promises they had made to each other so many years ago…

… and they were married.

* * *

_**2002** _

_**(One Year Later)** _

"Wow, this forest certainly is beautiful," commented Narcissa as they walked hand-in-hand.

Iain nodded, turning his face up towards the warm sun where it peeked between the leaves. "It is," he said. "But this isn't what I really wanted to show you."

"Oh?" said Narcissa as they stepped out of the trees.

Iain made her stop. "Close your eyes," he said with a grin.

Narcissa eyed him with coy suspicion.

"I promise," said Iain with a hand over his heart, "if you don't like where we're going, you can hex me."

Narcissa grinned wickedly. "Very well then." She closed her eyes, and Iain took their joined hands and led her several more steps. She heard the unmistakable sound of a gate opening, and then they walked just a few more feet before they stopped.

"Okay," said Iain's disembodied voice. "Open them."

Narcissa opened her eyes, and her jaw dropped.

In front of her stood a beautiful red-brick castle with a sloping black roof and green pointed tops to each of its rounded towers. The landscape around it was an emerald green, with hedges built high and mature trees grown tall. Nearby, Narcissa could hear the movement of water stirring gently in the wind.

"This is stunning," said Narcissa with delight.

Iain grinned. "It's called Trolleholm Castle," he told her. "And it's for sale."

Narcissa blinked, startled. She laughed. "Are you suggesting we buy it?" she asked Iain. "Because I'm right at home in a castle, but it seems a little ostentatious for you."

Iain chuckled. "Not to live in," he said, turning to face her and taking both of her hands in his. "For your school, Narcissa," he whispered to her.

Narcissa's lips parted. Shifting, she turned and scanned the grounds again. This time, she was not just seeing the castle, but instead imagining the grounds filled with witches – studying on the grass, flying on brooms in the sky, laughing and joking on their way to classes. She imagined attentive groups sitting in an elegant library, and she could see so clearly where the greenhouses would go, and how the gardens could look.

She turned to face Iain, her expression one of complete disbelief.

"Do you… do you really think I could?" she asked almost timidly.

Iain smiled. "There isn't a doubt in my mind, Narcissa."

Narcissa shifted to look back at the castle.

And she smiled, too.

* * *

_So we did._

_It took two years of planning, building, hiring, and development, but on September 1_ _st_ _, 2004, the Florence Institute of Higher Learning for Witches was opened._

_Our first ever class had fifty-three students, and I – Narcissa Black Malfoy Stewart – was named their Headmistress, a title I still hold to this day._

_In the seven years since we've opened, the number of witches at Florence Institute has grown to nearly four hundred, and we get more and more applications every year…_

_**2011** _

"… and someday very soon," finished Narcissa at last, straightening in her spot with a smile, "you two will join them, and you will learn everything your hearts desire."

"Wow," said ten-year-old Athena. "That was an amazing story, Nan!"

"Seriously!" exclaimed Maggie, now seventeen. "I can't imagine you ever living anywhere other than here, Nana." She looked around the house on the lake. "Or being with anyone other than Pop."

Narcissa chuckled. "I know," she said tenderly. "But I was, and I did. And sometimes it was very, very hard, and I grew very sad. But you know what?"

Her two granddaughters looked up at her adoringly.

"I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world," Narcissa told them. "Not the heartbreak, not the sadness, not the longing, not any of it. For all of those trials and tribulations led me right here – and right to you, my two beautiful granddaughters." Narcissa looked over their eager faces. "So, remember, my loves. You must never let anyone tell you that you are too clever…" she swept a hand over Athena's face, "…or too bold." She stroked Maggie's head. "For you are exactly as you are meant to be. And you are so, so loved."

Athena beamed. "And our little brother Atticus, too! Right?"

Narcissa laughed. "Of course, and little Atticus, too."

"Where is he?" asked Maggie, turning around. "Oh, he's outside with Pop! Let's get our poles, Athena!" The two girls jumped up and grabbed their fishing poles, and Narcissa followed them outside to the lake, where a man and a baby sat just near the water.

"Oh, Iain," said Narcissa with a chuckle. "He's  _one_."

Iain looked up at her with a grin and baby Atticus bounced in his lap. "Never too young to start, right girls?"

"Help me with mine, Pop!"

"Move, Athena! That's my spot!"

"No, it's not!"

Narcissa sat down next to Iain and rested her head on his shoulder. His warm arm came to settle around her waist, and her eyes shifted up to his, lips smiling.

He smiled back at her, and together, they watched the sun set on the lake.

* * *

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_Welcome! Thank you for considering the Florence Institute of Higher Learning for Witches!_

_Here at Florence Institute, we offer advanced post-secondary studies to witches of all nationalities between the ages of 17 and 26. Our mission is to provide rigorous, complex courses designed to enhance and challenge witches in all fields of professional and personal development. By doing so, we hope to inspire young witches everywhere to go further than they ever thought possible. We also dream of doing our part to create a generation of knowledgeable, self-sufficient witches who feel confident and experienced in their respective fields from the very start._

_Our school offers two-year studies in Healing, Alchemy, Potions, Herbology, Wizarding Law, Ancient Runes, Magical Education, Magizoology, and much, much more! We even have a Defense track for those who wish to go on and become Aurors!_

_All courses are designed to challenge and motivate our witches, and each is led by a world-renowned expert in their field. When our students leave Florence Institute, they do so with a breadth of knowledge and experience that their peers simply will not have._

_Since our inception in 2004, the number of witches in mid-to-high level positions in the British Ministry of Magic has skyrocketed from 23% to 45%. The acceptance rates of Florence Institute graduates in the areas of Healing are 38% higher than their non-graduate peers, and there are an astonishing forty-eight Florence Institute alums currently working in their respective government cabinets throughout the world!_

_In just the last five years, Florence Institute has seen a huge jump in international applicants. We now proudly host students from over sixty different countries, and as a result, we are the most diverse magical campus in all the world._

_Florence Institute of Higher Learning for Witches expects much of its students, and its coursework is not for the faint of heart. However, no young witch will ever be more prepared for their life's journey than those who start with the right education._

_Florence Institute is more than just a place of learning. It is a unified, supportive sisterhood of witches who come together to grow, learn, and take joy in each other's accomplishments. Our campus is more than a school. It is a home, a place of comfort and never-ending support. To become a Florence Nightingale means to ingratiate yourself in a community that will follow you for the rest of your life._

_In this spirit, we at Florence Institute also invite any applicant who is the non-magical daughter of a magical parent._ _**Yes, Squibs are welcome!** _ _We have a number of majors that do not require spellwork, including History of Magic, Muggle Studies, and Music. Look no further than Florence Institute graduate Lindsey Stewart to see evidence of just how far you can go! Lindsey was part of the first-ever graduating class of Florence Institute, and she now travels the world with the Brighton Magical Orchestra as their lead violinist! Congratulations, Lindsey!_

_There are many more possible avenues for study available at our school, and we continued to expand our programs every year. We invite you to visit our stunning campus at Trolleholm Castle in Svalöv, Sweden to learn more._

_If you have any further questions, feel free to send a letter by owl to Headmistress Narcissa Stewart._

* * *

" _Were there none who were discontented with what they have, the world would never reach anything better."_

_\- Florence Nightingale_

* * *

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The End.


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